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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25951540">Swim in Strange Water</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkTidings/pseuds/DarkTidings'>DarkTidings</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Lost Deputy Collection [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Walking Dead (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Season/Series 05, Beth Greene Lives, Dogs, F/M, Grady Memorial Hospital (Walking Dead), Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Mental Health Issues, Missing Persons, Presumed Dead, Shane Walsh Lives, Slow Romance, Survival Training, Survivor Guilt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:42:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>64,500</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25951540</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkTidings/pseuds/DarkTidings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Survival is the ability to swim in strange water" - Frank Herbert</i>
</p><p>Beth escapes her Grady kidnappers before they reach the hospital, only to cross paths with a man she hasn't seen since before the farm fell.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Beth Greene/Shane Walsh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Lost Deputy Collection [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1883092</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>654</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>169</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Unexpected Reunion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Extended version of chapter from Bunny Farm.</p><p>As requested by Yohoho and encouraged by BetaDaughter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>"Survival is the ability to swim in strange water" - Frank Herbert</i>
</p><p>Beth stopped struggling a few miles back after she was snatched up on the road.  She doesn't know who these men are, but back before the world ended, this kind of abduction usually meant something she doesn't want to contemplate.  After the apocalypse, she doesn't think it's anything better.</p><p>Because she's handcuffed in the backseat as punishment for her protests about their supposed rescue, they aren't paying close attention to her anymore.  She tries to think like Maggie, and what her sister would do.  Easing down into the seat, she pretends to sleep as the two men bitch about the bullshit night patrols being reinforced by them finding a refugee.</p><p>She refrains from a derisive snort.  If these jerks wanted to reduce their time out in the dark, carrying her back against her will seems the height of stupidity.</p><p>Very carefully, she eases her arms down as far as they can go, reaching back to old gymnastic tricks her friends who were allowed the lessons taught her.  One thing about life at the prison, she's in good shape and hasn't lost her flexibility.  Once she's got her wrists back in front of her, she thinks on her next step.</p><p>Television would dictate she either choke one of the men with the cuffs or escape the moving vehicle.  A snide voice that sounds oddly like Daryl says of course that Hollywood shit don't work.  She lies still again, listening for clues as to where she's being taken.</p><p>Her chance for escape comes unexpectedly.  The big car screeches to a halt with a thudding crash that rolls her into the floorboard.  Both men get out of the car, cursing, and she hears the word deer and tries not to laugh.  It seems car versus animal is still part of their world.</p><p>Since the men seem to be debating strapping the deer to the hood, with confusing commentary about guinea pig dinners, she peeks over the seat.  The deer somehow ended up in the far ditch, so both men are at least twenty-five feet away from the car right now.</p><p>Stealing the car might be a good idea if she was certain it wasn't damaged.  She also doesn't know where she is to risk driving a large, unfamiliar car in the dark.  Despite the fact that she's terrified of being weaponless in the dark, she's less afraid of walkers than what awaits her at the end of this ride.</p><p>Easing the door open, Beth slips out of the car and pushes the door shut.  They're not in the country anymore.  What city it is, she can't tell in the dark, but there's too much concrete and asphalt for anything else. She makes it behind a wrecked truck and risks a look back.</p><p>Tweedledum and Tweedledee are still arguing over the deer.  She tries to remember everything Daryl taught her about moving quietly, hoping it translates to city streets as well as the woods.  Nothing moves anywhere as she stays in the shadows of the buildings.  Instinct tells her to flee indoors, but she fights it down.  The more distance she puts between herself and the men, the better.</p><p>She begins scanning parking lots and residential yards for weapons.  Her first one is a broken shovel handle, but it's better than nothing.  It's not like she hasn't seen improvised weapons regularly now.</p><p>Dawn is lightening the sky when exhaustion starts winning out over the desperate need to put space between her and any pursuit.  She can read enough signs now to know she's in Atlanta.  With better light, she assesses the businesses she's passing.  </p><p>The old bakery seems like a good idea on the surface, but she's heard too many stories about survivors crossing paths at food resource locations.  Alone, with no real weapon?  She doesn't want to risk meeting people, especially the type that venture into a dangerous area like the city.</p><p>A few buildings down she spots a building that makes her smother a sob.  She trudges forward, feet sore and feeling like lead.  At the door to the building, she traces her fingers across the lettering still intact on unbroken class.  She can't bring herself to damage the painted animals gamboling across the glass.</p><p>Instead, she circles the building.  It's much easier to use her shovel handle to break the narrow glass in the back door.  She tenses to see if the noise will bring unwanted attention.  Nothing stirs, and she picks away the remaining glass with trembling fingers.  </p><p>Reaching through is uncomfortable with her cuffed hand, but she unlocks the deadbolts and doorknob, before letting herself in.  Being inside lets some of the tension in her thin frame ease, but she doesn't dare lock the door yet.  She might now have been allowed on the supply runs, but she did listen as they were rehashed at meals. She has to clear the building.</p><p>One by one, she checks each room, feeling the sense of overwhelming loss threaten at the familiar yet not familiar building.  It doesn't seem right to be inside a veterinary clinic that doesn't have Hershel Greene somewhere within.  It's as if he's watching over her, because the building is empty.</p><p>The glass windows she admired from outside makes her nervous, so she tapes paper from the copy machine over the expanse covering up the cheery animals.  "Sorry, guys," she whispers.  "Y'all keep watch for me out there."</p><p>She visits the bathroom before her bladder bursts, wishing there was running water.  A search through a supply closet unearths baby wipes, at least.  She gives herself a makeshift wipe down of her exposed skin and tosses the grubby wipes. </p><p>It takes her a while between exhaustion and inexperience, but she discovers in the end that movies really don't lie about how easy handcuffs are to pick with office supplies from the reception desk.</p><p>Her stomach rumbles, so she checks the kitchenette for anything still viable.  Someone here liked those little packets of flavored tuna.  The saltine crackers are the stalest things she's ever tasted, but they're edible with the spicy tuna scooped on top.  She crunches her way through a whole sheaf of crackers and two of the four tuna packets.</p><p>Habit leads her to throw away the trash, and she braves the refrigerator.  By some luck, no one had anything in it that would spoil.  She checks the bottles of juice and they're nearly expired, but not quite.  Opening one, she grimaces at the warm apple juice, but beggars can't be choosers.</p><p>Although sleep beckons, she circles back to lock the back door and wedge cardboard in the broken window.  It won't really stop a person, but maybe they won't look closely in the dirty old alley.  No one thinks about veterinary offices when they're looking for supplies.  It's how Daryl and his group found medicine for the sickness that swept through the prison.</p><p>She drags the biggest dog beds from the sales display into the veterinarian's personal office, building herself a nest behind the desk.  In an abundance of precaution, she raids the supplies for scalpels and eases one into each of her boots.  Taking her battered shovel handle and a third scalpel, she curls up behind the desk and falls into an exhausted sleep.</p><p>Beth wakes before her body catches up on much needed sleep.  She goes on alert, but before she can identify what woke her, she's being licked enthusiastically by the happiest, wiggliest pit bull she's ever seen.  The last time she saw a dog was before the outbreak, and she gives in to the urge to pet the lovely creature.</p><p>Logic comes crashing down on her simple delight.  There's no way a dog got inside the building without human help.  "Go away," she hisses quietly, hating to give up the comfort of touching the dog's silky brindle fur.</p><p>Maybe if the dog goes and finds its owner, she can stay hidden.  Obviously, the person needs supplies for the animal, but maybe they'll avoid the office.</p><p>But not if her new best friend stays put.  </p><p>"Please.  You have to go away." She feels desperate tears prick at her eyes.</p><p>Her obvious distress earns her more swipes of the flat tongue.  The dog whines in response to her fear.</p><p>"Biscuit?" A man's voice calls out.  It's a deep timbre voice, one that tickles Beth's memory, but it's not any of the men from the prison.</p><p>The dog proves a traitor, because it makes a high pitched yip as it does its level best to pretend its sixty pound form is the same as a small lapdog.  Squished beneath the dog, Beth prays for a miracle.</p><p>"There you are, you crazy mutt.  What have you found?"</p><p>The man steps into view.  He's an imposing guy, dressed like many of the men at the prison were in serviceable clothing and sturdy boots.  A full, dark beard obscures most of his features.  He frowns as he sees her, brow furrowing.</p><p>"Beth?" he asks, looking puzzled.  "Beth Greene?"</p><p>It finally clicks for her who the man is, if she really stretches her memory back to the farm and the day a bleeding Carl Grimes was carried into her family's farm.  Remove the beard and replace the dark curly hair he shaved after Otis died, and it's a man she hasn't seen since he disappeared in the night after the failed trip to eject Randall from the farm.</p><p>"Hello, Mister Walsh."</p><p>~*~*~*~</p><p>Of all the people from his former life that Shane Walsh expected to ever run into again, Hershel's youngest child never once crossed his mind.  Maggie, he could picture, if he thinks about it now.  The older girl had a strong dose of common sense it always seemed her sister was protected from having.</p><p>He's laid awake nights, especially in the early days when the loneliness was at its worst, imagining finding the group again.  Rick or Lori feature mostly, although the one that makes his heart ache the most is imagining Carl.  He never lets himself imagine the baby at all, because that way lies a madness he cannot hope to overcome.</p><p>With a piece of his past staring at him from beneath Biscuit's attempt at becoming a lap dog, he takes a deep breath.</p><p>"Might as well call me Shane," he offers.  "Not much call for formality these days.  Biscuit, let the girl up."</p><p>The dog whines, but moves away from Beth far enough she can breathe freely.  He notices her hand trails after the dog and wonders how long she's been on her own.</p><p>"You get separated from your people?" He loathes the idea of taking her back, since it means contact with Rick, but he can't leave a girl not much older than Carl on her own.  They're a long way from the Greene farm, on the wrong side of Atlanta from it.</p><p>Beth tears up, which makes him wonder if his people skills have gotten that bad.  Probably so, because he didn't even consider the fact that she might be separated because her people are dead and gone.  She looks too healthy to have been on her own long, though.</p><p>"I don't know where anyone is." She sniffles just a little, but gets a grip on her emotions before he has to figure out if he can possibly soothe her upset.  "Where we were staying was attacked by a man with a grudge against Rick.  A lot of people died, and we were scattered.  Only person I've seen since was Daryl."</p><p>Shane scratches at his beard.  It's long enough he really should give it a good trim soon to avoid looking like a lumberjack. He supposes he shouldn't be surprised that the hunter is still with Beth's people.  He was smart enough not to challenge Rick.  "Where is Dixon now?"</p><p>"We got separated when I got taken by two men in a car marked with a cross. I don't know where we were before."</p><p>Shane recalls those cars when he's made excursions into Atlanta.  He avoids them as a matter of habit, although sometimes he gets curious about whether they're really Atlanta cops or playacting.  With his own right to the badge long behind him, he decided against finding out.</p><p>"Might be a good thing you got away.  Can't be good intentions if they didn't give you a choice."</p><p>"That's what I figured.  They hit a deer, so I got loose and ran until it got to be daylight."</p><p>Shane sighs.  With no direction and her people scattered, he can't really do much.  Well, except to not leave her here.  "Came in this close to the city for medications and supplies.  No one raids the vet offices."</p><p>Plus he does have animals to keep healthy.</p><p>Beth doesn't ask to come with him, but he can see the question lingering unasked in her young face.  Biscuit has crept back closer while they've been talking, so he knows what the dog would vote for.</p><p>"Why don't you come back with me?  I'm staying about twenty miles outside the city on a lake.  Let you rest up, and maybe we can map something out to sort out a search.  Get you back to your daddy."</p><p>With time to think it over, he thinks they could figure something out.</p><p>The girl does cry this time, and Biscuit responds to comfort her.  The momentary confusion he experiences passes as he thinks over what he said before she started crying.  Ah, shit.  If they were attacked and people died, it isn't unreasonable for her father to be one of them, especially at his age.</p><p>Shane lets her hug the dog for comfort, but snags a box of dusty tissues off the desk and offers them to her.  It seems to jolt her out of her sorrow.  She cleans up her tears and blows her nose.</p><p>"Thank you for offering.  I think that would be best." The prim and proper response makes him almost smile.</p><p>"Help me clear out anything useful?" he asks, unrolling the spare duffel from his pack.</p><p>Beth takes it and stands, nudging Biscuit aside.  "I'll show you what I found when I cleared the building."</p><p>She's efficient, he'll give her that.  He's not sure how much is growing up a veterinarian's daughter and how much is any real training in gathering supplies.  It doesn't really matter because it takes them under an hour to pack away anything remotely useful.  </p><p>She eyes the duffel she has, versus the heavier laden backcountry pack he has.  "I can carry more weight than this."</p><p>"I figure you can, but it's a long hike and those boots aren't made for cross country the way mine are. Less weight will be easier.  When did you eat last?"</p><p>He did see fresh and empty food packages in the kitchenette once they were clearing the building, but he doesn't know how long she's been here.</p><p>"Before I slept, so sometime after dawn." She looks at her footwear, which is more stylish than functional, and grimaces.</p><p>Shane looks at his watch.  It took him and the dog just over six hours to trek into the city's fringes.  They could make it home by dark, but he's not sure the girl can keep their pace.  It's an intense one for him, to make the trip in a single day, and he's in great shape for it.</p><p>"It's just after noon now. If we get started, we might make it home by nightfall."</p><p>"And if we can't?" she asks.</p><p>He approves of the question, because it shows she's not just following him blindly.  "There are a few safe houses along the way.  We've been caught out in storms or other delays before."</p><p>Beth looks relieved, so he unzips the side pocket on his pack and pulls out two of the Millennium Bars he carries for eating while hiking.  "Cherry or coconut?"</p><p>She glances at the bars and then takes the coconut, following him as they head outside.  Her frown at the dry looking rarion bar clears when she takes a bite, falling into step beside him as Biscuit patrols around them.  Outside, the pit bull always loses all his playfulness in favor of guard duty.</p><p>"It tastes like a cookie," she remarks, chewing thoughtfully.  "What is it?"</p><p>"Sort of a combination ration bar and energy bar.  They don't spoil in the heat over time like a lot of the protein and other food bars do." </p><p>When she finishes it off in record time, he passes her another, taking the time to eat one of his own.  She isn't chatty, like he expects of a girl her age, but that could be that she doesn't know him well enough to start up unnecessary conversation.</p><p>Shane's spent almost all his conversation speaking to animals. He's only heard other voices thanks to DVDs in the past eight months, which was the last time he spoke to any survivors.  That was brief, the couple too wary of strangers to linger much longer than it took to negotiate a trade of medicine when they crossed paths.</p><p>They fall into a silent walk, punctuated only by quick exchanges when she needs a bathroom break and when he encourages her to drink.  With the bottled juice from the vet office and his canteen, they're not lacking for drinks.</p><p>"How much further?"</p><p>It surprises him that it takes her nearly four hours to ask that question.  Their pace is slower than it would be for him and the dog alone.  He's already thinking they won't make it home by dark.</p><p>"About half an hour to a safe house, of sorts."</p><p>"We'll stay the night?"</p><p>"Yeah.  It's still warm enough that it shouldn't be too bad." </p><p>She nods, not seeming curious about the weather being a factor.  No matter where her group was staying, that would be something she's familiar with by now, he thinks.  He hasn't asked any questions yet, because he doesn't want the distraction while hiking.  If they lost their home under an attack, the news can't be good.</p><p>When they turn into a yard and bypass the house for the treehouse out back, Beth actually laughs.  "You're a bit old for treehouses, aren't you?"</p><p>Shane does smile at that commentary.  "It's unlikely to be searched by human survivors, and walkers can't reach.  Important when you travel alone." Even with Biscuit, the dog needs sleep, too.</p><p>Beth takes that in stride and climbs nimbly up the hanging ladder.  She looks around from the vantage point of the platform around the little 'house' before frowning down at Biscuit.  "How does he get up?"</p><p>"Toss down that sling by the ladder." </p><p>Once she's done that, he hooks it around the dog's middle and climbs the rope ladder himself.  It doesn't take much to haul Biscuit to the platform.  The dog is calm and collected, used to being hauled to higher ground away from home.</p><p>"Huh.  That's one way to do it." She smiles and pets the dog before opening the door Biscuit nudges.</p><p>Shane draws the rope ladder up after them.  Now that they're stopping for the night, he's afraid the conversation he's avoiding is inevitable.  He runs a nervous hand across the back of his head.</p><p>Somehow, he'll cope, just like he's done with everything else since the world went to hell.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>AU Notes: Beth is 20, not 18, when the prison falls. Sophia and Andre live. Most of the prison/Woodbury arc occurs, including the deaths of Lori, Hershel, and Merle. All other post prison through finding Alexandria events follow canon (aside from Carol not needing to assassinate a child, as Tyreese saved Sophia, Judith, and Andre). Shane and Beth will not find the others right away, instead making their own rambling way north. By the time they reach Virginia, the war with Negan will be underway. Glenn will not die in this version of the story. Jury is still out on Abraham.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Visions of a Little Girl</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Over supper in the treehouse, Beth tells Shane about Judith and the fall of the prison.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Beth doesn't think her feet have ever ached quite like they do today.  She's gotten soft in the time at the prison, because she remembers walking more than she did today back before they found that false safe haven.  Discarding her boots, she peels off her socks to inspect her feet.</p><p>"You got a blister?" Shane asks, rummaging in his pack.  Biscuit is sniffing around the treehouse, looking relaxed.</p><p>"No, although one spot looks questionable." She peers at her sore feet, finding just the one reddened spot.</p><p>"May I look?" He motions toward her feet.</p><p>As much as it seems a little gross after walking most of the day, she nods and extends the problem foot.  Shane grips her ankle, inspecting critically, taking the second foot once he's done.  "Since you don't have spare socks, you'll want to wash them out best you can and hang them to dry.  Wash your feet and let them air for the night and try this."</p><p>She takes the bottle, which looks like those empties you buy to carry smaller amounts of lotion or shampoo when you travel.  The lotion smells like peppermint when she uncaps the bottle. </p><p>Shane stands and retrieves a bucket hidden in the rafters, taking a net bag out of it.  He takes the bucket to a rain barrel in one corner.  He dips out water and brings her the bucket and the bag.  "Cloth, towel, and liquid camping soap in the bag.  There's a camp shower at the house, but you can wash up a bit and clean your socks."</p><p>"Thank you." She dips the washcloth in the bucket and washes her face, feeling much better than her wet wipe clean up.</p><p>Shane nods and goes to lift another bucket out of the rafters.  It has camping cookware in it, and he sets a little stove on a piece of sheet metal and feeds it with sticks and twigs as Beth gets her feet and socks clean. Once he has a pot of water set to boil, he pours water into a plastic bowl for Biscuit.</p><p>"Gonna go check a garden nearby.  There's a camp toilet over in the corner.  Put one up here after we got stalled by a herd for two days once.  Can you take the water off boil to cool after it boils for at least a minute?"</p><p>Beth just nods, and he slips outside, leaving his pack and Biscuit behind.  She hastens to make use of the camp toilet while he isn't here, suspecting half of his jaunt outside is to let her have that privacy.  She washes her hands in the soapy bucket and looks around.</p><p>The supplies he stores say that it is indeed a safe house of sorts.  There's everything you would need for a week stuck in the treehouse, including dog food and pee pads.  She considers the packets of freeze-dried food, but since he went out to forage, she decides to wait.</p><p>Without a watch, she isn't sure how long Shane is gone, but the water hasn't fully cooled after she fell back on counting to time the boil.</p><p>"Snagged some persimmons and cherry tomatoes the birds didn't get yet." He passes her a net bag with over a dozen yellow-orange tomatoes and nearly as many ugly, wrinkly fruits.  "If you can wash those in the boiled water, I'll feed Biscuit."</p><p>She takes a bowl out of the equipment bucket and gets everything rinsed.  Shane mixes a can of dog food with something from a pouch in the empty water bowl.  Once he's got the dog eating, he sets more water to boil.</p><p>"Can go ahead and eat those if you want." He fishes a pouch out of his pack similar to the ones she saw in the supply stash.  "Some stuff sprouted on its own from old gardens.  Tomatoes, squash, and such."</p><p>Beth nibbles on a persimmon.  She knows people eat them, but she thought they were tart or sour.  These are sweet, in a tastier way than the ration bars she ate earlier. "You haven't asked about anyone."</p><p>"Figured you would talk when you wanted to." Shane doesn't meet her eyes, keeping his gaze on the camp stove.</p><p>"Your daughter's name is Judith." Beth isn't sure why that's the first thing she says, but maybe it is because she's been raising that baby for the last eight months.  It seems like it's more hers to tell than anyone else's.</p><p>It startles him into looking up, and the pain on his face makes her regret her bluntness.  "She's not…"</p><p>Shane doesn't get the sentence finished before he grits his teeth.  She watches his jaw clench and feels a surge of sympathy, despite knowing this man killed Otis.  He could have left her behind, but instead of being the abrupt, angry man from the farm, he stood there and passed her tissues when she cried.</p><p>"She has your eyes, you know.  And your smile, what I remember of it.  Carl says so." Beth wishes she had a picture, even a bad Polaroid, just to show him. But the few she had like that were back at the prison.</p><p>Shane busies himself with pouring boiling water into the pouch and two camp cups.  He rubs at the back of his head as he finally looks directly at her.  "She's healthy?"</p><p>"Growing like a weed.  Crawls and gets into mischief.  Laughs so much, and it's contagious." Beth feels her breath catch as she thinks of Judith's tiny body asleep against her chest time after time. She prays the baby is safe, since she never found her or Sophia before Daryl forced her away from the dangerous chaos of the prison. "Carl picked out her name."</p><p>"Goes well with his.  Traditional." His voice wavers, dropping deeper, and he sniffs and clears his throat.  "He likes having a sister?"</p><p>"He adores her.  I think she's his favorite person in the whole world." Considering how unstable Rick became, it's not surprising.</p><p>"Good."  Biscuit's on alert now, making a small whine as he nudges at Shane.  His owner reaches out to rub the dog's broad head with what seems to be long practice.  </p><p>"Shane?" For some reason, she feels like he should be looking at her.  She isn't ready for talking about her daddy yet, but the older losses are easier.  He looks up, arching a brow, and his eyes are bloodshot.</p><p>"Lori didn't make it." Beth aims for the gentlest tone she's ever used, as if she were speaking to Judith when she's anxious.</p><p>When he doesn't look surprised, she guesses he already knew the danger the pregnancy posed.  She can't bring herself to tell him the rest, that Lori died of a butchery of a surgery she ordered herself to save her daughter's life.  Shane tries to speak several times and finally just ducks his head again without a word.</p><p>"Me and Carl and Sophia, we look after Judith. Daryl's the uncle who tries to teach her bad words.  Calls her Lil Asskicker.  Carol's busy most of the time, but she helps, too."</p><p>"And Rick?"</p><p>Beth shakes her head when he finally looks back up.  "Plays with her sometimes, but he wasn't in a good place for a while.  By the time he was better, she was attached to other people."</p><p>"You, Carl, Sophia, Carol, and Daryl." </p><p>She realizes she missed him adding powder to the camp cups when he stirs one and hands it to her.  The sweet scent of hot cocoa makes her fingers curl tightly around the warm cup in anticipation.</p><p>"More or less.  We got separated when the prison fell.  Normally, I would have had her with me, but we weren't expecting the attack.  She was with Sophia instead, indoors because she was getting over a cold.  Only good thing is I couldn't find Sophia either, and she's smart enough to have run for the woods."</p><p>"Girl's maybe fourteen.  You think she could keep a baby safe?" Shane asks.  His hands are shaking.</p><p>"She's kind of like a Daryl Junior now, so yeah. Judith's safer with Sophia than most adults.  Daryl and I were searching for them when I got grabbed up."</p><p>"Guess once we get back to the house and gear up, we should start where you were living.  A prison, right?"</p><p>"Yeah.  Not the best idea anyone had, but it had a good fence, at least.  Kept walkers at bay, even if you didn't have any real privacy living in cells."</p><p>"You remember which prison?" Shane picks up the pouch and tests the contents with a spoon before emptying half out into a bowl and passing it to her.  He takes a fork to eat directly from the bag.</p><p>"West Georgia Correctional." Beth takes a bite of the pasta, which has cauliflower, zucchini, peppers, and broccoli is some cheesy sauce.  "Do you know where that is?"</p><p>"About forty miles southwest of here.  Transported prisoners a few times, back in the day, for court and such."</p><p>Beth scoffs, realizing the irony that they wandered for months before discovering a location the damned cop among them would already have known about. "Figures.  And Rick acted like it was a surprise Shangri la. Should've been a clue."</p><p>"What do you mean?"</p><p>"That something wasn't right in his head.  No one ever would say something about it, but just kept following like lost ducklings." Not that she has much room to say much, but at least she was a teenager.  It doesn't excuse the adults.  So she clarifies for Shane.</p><p>"We were on the road most of the winter, except when we stayed in these unheated storage buildings."</p><p>"Jesus Christ.  It snowed a fucking lot for Georgia this winter.  I actually headed south a while."</p><p>"Did you at least get a sunny beach to hang out on?"   Someone should have had one.</p><p>~*~*~*~*~</p><p>"Yeah.  Kept going til I hit the Gulf.  Stayed on a boat a while and sailed a bit." Sailing was a skill he gained in the years of being invited on vacations with his much more affluent best friend.  Kid with his background would never have learned to sail or ski without a rich buddy.</p><p>"Why would you ever come back north?" the blonde asks, looking incredulous.</p><p>Shane doesn't mind her disbelief, because he considers the action a bit crazy himself.  But the day his mental tally of Lori's pregnancy ran out, he found himself heading back north.  She seems sympathetic about the baby, though, so she might understand.</p><p>The baby, that nebulous idea of a person in this world that shares his blood, is something he very carefully doesn't think about.  Despite his half-hearted search for where Rick might have ended up, he kept thinking of it as finding Rick, not his child.</p><p>His daughter, he knows now, and he's angry that he was forced away and Rick didn't fulfill his promise that the baby was Rick's.  He doesn't want to think about Lori dying to bring their child into the world.</p><p>"It was the beginning of spring, and that reminded me of things."</p><p>Beth nods, looking like she does understand.  He supposes she's had to grow up faster than a teenager normally would.</p><p>They finish their food in silence, and he washes their dishes to put everything away for the next time it is needed. She's trying to hide a yawn, and he feels for the girl. "There's a sleeping pad in that bench seat, if you want something to stretch out on."</p><p>She nods and spread it out, taking the thin fleece blanket and spreading it over her slim form.  He unties his from his pack and sets up on the opposite side of the treehouse.  Night's got a full hold over them now, although the moon isn't so far past full that they're truly in the dark.</p><p>"I hate Rick, you know."</p><p>Beth's voice out of the dark startles him.  </p><p>"Why?"</p><p>"He refused to leave the prison, to move anywhere else, after we first got targeted by a madman with his own private army.  Just kept pissing the man off.  Didn't finish him off the first time, so we had an enemy out there who came back."</p><p>She pauses, a choked sound he knows is a precursor to crying.  Biscuit provides the comfort he can't, because the dog goes to press his sturdy body against the girl's side.</p><p>"That madman obsessed with Rick came back, and he beheaded my daddy right in front of me."</p><p>Fucking hell.  Shane's at a loss for words.  I'm sorry seems too damned trite.  "I cannot imagine witnessing that." </p><p>He truly can't.  Seeing your father die is horrible enough, but witnessing a beheading is one of those levels of trauma he doesn't think you ever come back the same from.  He can picture Rick being too stubborn to leave a place he's claimed.  It's what happened at the farm, before Shane left.</p><p>"Just so you understand.  I want to find my family.  But I also want to shoot Rick Grimes on sight. It's wrong, but that's just how I feel."</p><p>"I suppose I can understand the impulse."</p><p>Shane can, which probably explains the admission.  He can hear her crying, and it sounds as angry as it is mournful.  It makes him glad he has Biscuit with him, because the dog is far better than he is at coping with emotions.</p><p>When Beth quiets at last, he does get up and offer her a dampened washcloth. Shane makes it back to his sleeping pad when she speaks again.</p><p>"Thank you, for not telling me I can't do that."</p><p>He sighs, his chest aching with old and new emotions. "Can't condemn you for something I wanted to do myself."</p><p>"Is that why you left?"</p><p>Shane thinks of the day he just shouldered his bag and headed for the woods.  The little pervert's fate was still up in the air, and he knew he could stay and watch everyone die or stay and end up killing Rick when he made a mistake that killed Lori or Carl.  Maggie watched him go, that narrow eyed gaze on his back all the way to the treeline.  She didn't summon anyone to stop him.</p><p>He just kept walking until he hit Atlanta.  For lack of any other destination, he went home to King County, but that was worse than simply wandering.  That's when he headed south and kept walking until he hit beach. He only knows about the snowy winter because of the last group he traded with.</p><p>"Yeah," he says at last, knowing he should probably answer her question.  "He was never going to forgive me, and I couldn't forgive myself, either."</p><p>Beth doesn't ask why, and he supposes she probably learned enough along the way if she knows Judith is his daughter.</p><p>Judith. There's a feeling as if someone's hooked him in the gut.  If there's a God in Heaven, his little girl is safe and somewhere with more than a single teenage girl to protect her.</p><p>"Can you tell me more about Judith?"</p><p>Beth laughs, a quiet, tired sound.  But she gifts him with tales of the child he never expected to meet and may never meet.  From the newborn in the mail sorting box, to her three solid weeks of colic when she could only be soothed with skin-to-skin contact, to the mischievous imp who crawled early and explores everything.</p><p>Finally, Beth drops off mid-sentence into a probably desperately needed sleep.  </p><p>It takes Shane another hour of staring at the rafters, visions of a little girl with his eyes and mischief combined with Lori's determination to rule her domain filtering through his mind like an old home movie.  He wonders if the baby misses Beth as much as the teenager obviously misses her.  </p><p>Finding her may be a needle in a haystack, but he's got to keep looking.  For both Judith's sake and for Beth's, who has earned the right to find her way back to Judith more than he ever has.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm still hashing the timeline... In the show it's 90 days between prison and Negan and that's too fast for this story.  As much as it sucks to keep Judith away from them, six months fits the timeline more.  So expect some AUing...</p><p>The others are still wandering toward Terminus, which puts them going way east of where Shane and Beth will start their search.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Shared Space</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Beth finds Shane's other roommates amusing once they reach his home, and they prepare to go start searching for the others.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Getting up with the birds has never been a novelty for Beth, not growing up on a farm even before the outbreak.  Maybe she didn’t have to help out with the cattle, but the chickens were her job from the time she was trusted to unlatch and latch the coop properly.  Time in the prison only honed that wakefulness, between Judy’s needs and the fact that there was always too much noise to try to sleep past dawn.  </p><p>That first night, after the prison fell, neither she nor Daryl slept, both too keyed up to bother.  He told her to try, but she simply couldn’t, but it wasn’t the idea she was outside that bothered her.  The part she doesn’t think she is ever going to get used to is sleeping without her father snoring in the same cell or hearing Judy’s quiet baby snuffles as she sleeps.  It took either moonshine or complete exhaustion the other times she slept.  Last night, it was grief, but at least with Biscuit’s snuffling breath against her shoulder, she did manage.</p><p>Even if Shane finds the people she’s missing, she doesn’t think sleep will ever feel as safe as it did in that prison cell with her daddy a few feet away.  Blinking back tears, she rubs Biscuit’s ears, causing the dog to raise his head and lick her face.  </p><p>A glance across the treehouse sees Shane startle awake when Biscuit whines just a little.  The man blinks, but recognition dawns for him quickly when he sees her.  It reminds her of how intense his expressions always seemed.</p><p>“Be home before lunch if we get an early start,” he says, sitting up and stretching.  “Let you get a rest day, if you need.  Look at the maps and find your sister for you.”</p><p>Beth knows she’s spared little thought for Maggie since the prison fell, maybe because thinking about her means being afraid she didn’t make it out.  Her sister was in the thick of the battle, she knows, and there were so many bodies that Daryl tried to shield her from when they fled through smoke and walkers that she could have easily stepped right over Maggie and never known.</p><p>“Okay.”  She pulls her now dry socks on, followed by her boots, eyeing the little camp toilet uncomfortably.  While privacy was at a minimum at the prison, she’s never had to pee in front of a male yet, although it was close with Daryl, who would turn his back and keep watch.  But she barely knows Shane, unlike more than a year spent with the hunter in the same group.</p><p>Shane seems to catch on, because he finishes lacing up his boots.  “Gonna take Biscuit down to do his business.  We can eat while we walk.”</p><p>Once he’s gone with the dog and his pack, she takes care of nature quickly and checks the treehouse to see that everything is back where she remembers it being.  Once she’s on the ground, they’re waiting, and she watches carefully as Shane uses a cord camouflaged against the trunk to raise the treehouse ladder.</p><p>When they set off, he leads her through a ramshackle garden, pointing out the tomato plants he gleaned from last night.  “Still some good ones there, if you want.”  He kneels next to an overgrown zucchini plant and removes two, dropping them into the modified messenger bag he wears in addition to the pack.  More rustling comes from his direction while she gathers the small bite-sized tomatoes into her shirt, picking more than she’ll eat since she saw him eat a few last night.</p><p>“Potatoes?” she asks, watching as he dusts his hands off and returns the trowel he was using to a bucket on a fence post.</p><p>“Lot of stuff growing wild now.  Not the more finicky ones, but the staples like these, yeah.”   Half a dozen potatoes about the size of Beth’s fist join the zucchini, and Shane closes the bag.  “Don’t really have to do much gardening to get by, with just me.”</p><p>He accepts a handful of tomatoes and passes her another ration bar as they start back along a seemingly random path that occasionally follows roads, but just as likely zigzags across neighborhoods as they progress.</p><p>It’s easy to fall into a silent rhythm.  Shane answers any questions she asks about their route, but otherwise doesn’t seem to speak much at all.  It’s a contrast with Carl once telling her that Shane could talk for hours on any topic, with Sophia giggling in agreement.  Beth guesses that much like herself, he just doesn’t have anything to waste words on right now.</p><p>When they stop for a break at a trickle that barely qualifies as a creek, she rinses her face while Shane pours water from a canteen into a collapsing bowl for Biscuit.</p><p>“He doesn’t just drink out of the creek?”</p><p>Shane shakes his head.  “Could be contaminated.  Trained him to wait for water from me.  Dogs don’t get sick as much from anything like that, but I’m paranoid.”  He strokes one hand down Biscuit’s back.</p><p>Considering she just splashed her face, Beth grimaces, which actually provokes a smile out of the man.  “Just don’t drink it or count on it to wash your hands.”</p><p>With that as a reminder, Beth drinks the other half of the two water bottles she’s carrying in her makeshift bag from the vet clinic.  It makes her glad she refilled both of them like he suggested last night when they had the little stove burning to boil water.  Thinking about the prison, she wonders now if some of the illness that spread so virulently through the population was from water contamination.  She knows people got lazy sometimes with the water, and they certainly didn’t boil the water given to the pigs.</p><p>She waits until they’re back on the road before asking, “How long have you had Biscuit?”</p><p>Shane looks to where the pit bull is a few feet ahead, his playful nature tempered a bit as he works as a bit of a forward guard.  Beth’s seen the dog alert his owner twice this morning, allowing Shane to put down one mobile and one crippled walker.  </p><p>“It was before I bothered with a watch again, so sometime in the fall after I left the farm.  Walkers got his mama and the other pups, but he got wedged far enough into a thicket they couldn’t grab him.  Think he was probably about half grown then.”</p><p>“Why do you call him Biscuit?”  It’s a cute name, but not typical of what men tend to name dogs, especially a big dog like Biscuit.</p><p>“Leave one of your biscuits unguarded, and you’ll find out.  Full name is Damned Biscuit Thief.”  Beth can’t help giggling at how the dog turns and alerts at Shane’s words.  “Yeah, you, silly mutt.”</p><p>They fall back into companionable silence, not seeing any more walkers by the time they near Shane’s home base.  He pulls a pair of leather work gloves from his bag and slips them on outside what seems to be a dense hedge of tangled shrugs and vines.  When he reaches into the shrubbery and pulls, a section moves and she realizes it’s a gate hidden in the greenery.</p><p>“This is creative,” she remarks, slipping through after Biscuit and watching as Shane settles the gate back into place.</p><p>“Can’t take credit for the hidden gate, other than letting things grow up on it.  Some kind of fake thing that made it blend into the hedge when it was neat and trim.  Muffles sound, too.”</p><p>With the overgrowth, it’s damn near invisible, especially from the outside.  She takes a minute before turning.  The house is on a large lot, probably easily two or three acres before, and mostly overgrown.  If she concentrates, she can see animal trails among the once manicured lawn and flower beds.  Although she really hopes the house itself isn’t their destination, because there’s a very large oak tree that smashed through the roof and took out most of the corner closest to Beth.  She can still see the near crater formed by the root ball ripping out of the ground for the once majestic oak.</p><p>She doesn’t ask, and Shane leads her around the house, although he stops and rehooks lines she realizes are makeshift tripwires.  “Anything I should be worried about?”</p><p>He looks up from where he’s rehooking the invisible line and shakes his head.  “Not meant to stop an intruder, just let me know one’s been by.  Keep them hooked high enough they don’t catch the dogs.”</p><p>“Dogs?” That makes Beth alert.  “You have more than Biscuit?”</p><p>Shane clears his throat, looking a little bashful.  “Thought I said?  It’s why I went to Atlanta to look for more supplies.  Cleared out things closer over time.”  </p><p>He whistles, an odd sound that sounds like some of the bird calls she’s heard Daryl use, and it causes a burst of activity to happen from an area nearly hidden from the house by a crepe myrtle gone untrimmed.  Three roly poly little masses of energy come pounding their way, yipping until they’re shushed quickly by Shane and a nip from Biscuit to the most rambunctious pup.  They’re followed by a pretty black and white Australian shepherd who eyes Beth warily, circling between her and the puppies.</p><p>“C’mere, Muffin.  Just another lost pup for you to look after,” Shane coaxes.  Once the pups are behind the mama, she watches Beth for a minute, crystal blue eyes intent.  She ventures forward, sniffing around Beth, and concentrating on the areas Biscuit brushed against on their journey.  After a moment, she seems to dismiss Beth entirely, trotting back to wherever she was before the puppies responded to Shane’s whistle.</p><p>“Muffin’s not real friendly right away.”  As if apologizing for the standoffishness of the female dog, Shane scoops up the smallest pup and hands it to Beth.  It blinks at her, a little short haired pup with mama's black and white markings peering up with pretty brown eyes.  “That’s Jelly.  She’s the only girl.”</p><p>Beth pets the puppy, who seems to have Biscuit’s cuddly disposition.  “I’m almost afraid to ask the boys’ names if she’s Jelly and the other two are Biscuit and Muffin.”</p><p>When Shane ducks his head, she realizes the man is grinning and hiding it.  He points to the little black puppy whose entire chest down to his legs is white.  “That’s Gravy.”  He pauses for effect, pointing at the other pup, this one black except for a white chest blaze and toe tips with blue eyes.  “And that’s Butter.”</p><p>She can’t help laughing.  “I’m not sure you should be naming dogs, Shane.”</p><p>~*~*~*~*~</p><p>Shane just shrugs, glad the rather odd names he stuck the pups with seems to cheer the girl up.  He knows they make no sense, because they don't even have coloring near those items.  "Started as a joke, and then kinda stuck.  But Muffin really was her name, according to the collar she had when we found her."</p><p>Lifting the two boy pups, he motions toward the direction Muffin disappeared. "C'mon.  Let's get the packs off our shoulders and get some lunch in."</p><p>Leading Beth around the overgrowth, the old boathouse comes into view at last. It's a careworn structure that wasn't kept up in the latter years before the outbreak, but once Shane patched the roof and replaced some broken windows, he got it liveable.  The tree collapsed main house just keeps the place looking deserted and not worth looting.</p><p>Setting his two pups on the porch, he fishes out the key from the cord around his neck and unlocks the door.  "Hot and stuffy in here since I was out," he remarks.  He leans his pack against the kitchen counter and goes to open windows.</p><p>"It's like a little hidey hole back here," Beth remarks, putting her own bag down on the futon near the door they entered.  She lets Jelly down to romp with her brothers, going to look out the windows next to his bed in the studio apartment. "Oh!  This is out over the water."</p><p>"Yeah.  Boat slip is underneath the bed, more or less.  Views not what it once was.  I didn't trim the trees back to make it less noticable." The shoreline is full of the big weeping willows, allowing just enough of a view to see the pretty private lake that once served a community far bigger than him and his dogs.  He wove branches of the stuff to further obscure the glass and rooflines.</p><p>"It's still pretty.  Been looking at prison fences and trees and rotting walkers for months now.  Water is a lot more peaceful." She sounds wistful as she stares out the window.</p><p>"I know you don't have extra clothes, but the water tank should be full.  Won't be any hot water without running the generator which I try not to do often, but it's usually about room temp at least." </p><p>Beth turns at the lure of a bath offered, just as he expected.  "That sounds lovely."</p><p>Shane rummages in the old dresser and lays out a pair of drawstring shorts and a T-shirt. They'll be too big for her, but it's something clean.  "There's a bucket setup in the bathroom to wash clothes and a line outside.  Towels in the bathroom."</p><p>"Thank you." Her smile matches the gratitude of the words.</p><p>"Gonna leave Biscuit and the pups up here with you and take Muffin to the main house.  Part I can still access has bedrooms.  Might have some ladies’ clothes."</p><p>Beth nods and he leaves her to it, calling Muffin to him from her hidey hole under the steps.  With the pups mostly weaned, she'll jaunt along with him again now around the property.  Shane works the back door open with his shoulder, feeling where the wood is swelling from exposure to the elements over time.</p><p>The oak fell before he ever ventured here, probably during one of the thunderstorms in the spring.  It crushed the front of the house and one back bedroom, but the master and two others are intact.  Searching the belongings of long gone residents no longer seems anathema like it did a year ago.</p><p>When he finds likely sized items in the first bedroom, he hopes the boy's clothes don't set off some sort of a tantrum.  Shane doubts it, though.  The girl seems pretty even keeled so far. Dumping the kid's gym bag of thankfully clean baseball gear, he dumps the jeans, shirts, and socks he can find into it.</p><p>The next room was a guest room, so no use, and he long since gleaned all the useful toiletries out of the bathrooms here.  Checking the sizes of the lady's side of the closet, he decides the boy clothes are the safer bet in size.  These are at least four sizes larger than the petite teenager he's temporarily guardian for.  </p><p>The closet does yield some possibilities for footwear, although Shane forgot to ask her size. He gathers up the expensive running shoes that will be better if they fit.  One quick walk through the master bath makes him sigh and clear out the items that weren't useful for him before.  That is not something he wants to be finding in an emergency.</p><p>Muffin is waiting from a shady spot by the back door when he returns, looking serene.  They cross the scraggly backyard to the boathouse.  From the trio 'guarding' the bathroom door, Shane surmises that Beth is still inside, so he sets the gym bag on the futon and goes through the supplies they brought back.  </p><p>If they're going to the prison tomorrow or the next day to look for clues to start the search, he needs to get organized. They were lucky during the hike here that the weather held fairly warm.  It isn't something they can count on, so keeping warm at night in an area he's less familiar with is going to take preparation.</p><p>With the supplies tidied away, he spreads a map out just as Beth comes out of the bathroom.  Her blonde hair is still wet enough to dampen the back of the shirt he loaned her, but she doesn't seem bothered as she pads over barefoot to peer at the circle he made on the map of the prison.</p><p>"We can probably ignore Woodbury," she suggests, pointing southwest of the prison.  "That's been destroyed, and I can't see anyone wanting to return.  Daryl and I were following train tracks a bit."</p><p>Shane finds the nearest train tracks to where the prison is and pencils a question mark on them.  "Any other landmarks you remember?"</p><p>"A country club.  That's where we explored, but we didn't stay.  Later it was a funeral home where we got separated by walkers and I got taken."</p><p>"We'll have to rummage around some businesses near the prison to find a phone book.  Both of those are good landmarks, because there's usually not an overabundance of country clubs or funeral homes to an area.  Good memory on you."</p><p>Beth smiles at the bland compliment.  "Guess it could have been random houses, yeah.  We did sorta burn a small building down between the two."</p><p>"Why?" Shane can only think of a rare few reasons to set an entire building on fire.</p><p>"Moonshine was involved."</p><p>Despite the danger it imposed on the girl, he can't help but chuckle.  "Moonshine is a harbinger of many a bad decision.  Although adding arson to your trail certainly makes it distinctive."</p><p>Folding the map for now, he points out the gym bag.  "Might see what's useful.  No ladies your size, but the boy's clothes might work until we can find something better.  I'll start us up a late lunch."</p><p>It's a little warmer than he likes for the wood stove itself, but he keeps a camp stove on what passes as a deck but is really a landing to the stairs to the boat slip.  Once he's got water boiling and pasta and sauce started, he steps back inside to find that Beth's out the other door hanging up her wet laundry.  She's still in the borrowed shirt and shorts and barefoot, so he hopes the rest fits.</p><p>"Make a list of anything we need to scavenge for you," he calls out, pulling the bread out of the bread box and slicing what remains of the loaf he made before going to Atlanta.</p><p>Lunch doesn't take long to get on the table, although it's close to two in the afternoon by that point.  Beth eats with good appetite, reminding him it's probably been days since she had a solid meal.  He's glad of the big lunch, because she looks so tired he thinks she might fall into her empty plate.</p><p>"Go, sleep.  You can have the bed, since you'll want the breeze to sleep this early."</p><p>"It's your bed," she tries to argue, but gives in after he points out the perfectly serviceable futon.  Sprawled on the bed in the afternoon sunlight, she looks so impossibly young that it's hard to imagine her being on her own.  There must be something to guardian angels to have them converge on the same veterinary clinic at the same time.</p><p>Feeling a pang of homesickness in a way he hasn't in a while, he busies himself with preparing to set out tomorrow.  Beth still hasn't woken by dusk, so he slides the windows closed as the temperature begins to drop and make the night feel like October really should.  With the wood stove lit, he settles to sleep himself.</p><p>It's easier tonight, when his mind is growing used to the idea of another person in his space.  For the first time since he returned north in the spring, Shane truly considers whether he might be welcomed back among people he once walked away from and feels like there might be hope.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Timeline wise, they're falling asleep as the other groups are trickling into Terminus.  Next chapter will have an update on the other group included.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Every Rock in Georgia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Shane shows Beth they aren't going to be hiking all over Georgia in their search, and Carol rains hellfire and damnation on Terminus to save her people.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Shane first said they would go looking for her lost people, Beth expected days or weeks of hiking, something that she dreaded with colder weather creeping in.  It makes the reality a much more pleasant surprise that she expected.</p><p>“How do you keep fuel for it?” she asks.  He led her off the hidden property by a different gate, emerging into a neighboring property where the house burned at some point.  The timber framed upper story collapsed into the remaining shell of the brick ground floor.  Like the tree squashed house that hides the boat house, this one is also a disguise.</p><p>Hidden under a woven canopy of living greenery is an old school bus, one of the smaller ones usually used to transport disabled students.  Its once bright orange paint was repainted at some point to a green and brown pattern she thinks is supposed to imitate a turtle.</p><p>She asks about the fuel, because she remembers people griping about the difficulty of finding clean fuel that isn’t tainted by water or just broken down beyond being useful.  The bus that she was supposed to flee the prison on was full of diesel fuel Daryl led a crew to retrieve from a marina, since apparently marine diesel lasted longer than street diesel due to still having old additives in it.</p><p>Shane leads her around to the rear of the bus and taps the weirdest contraption of barrels under the rear she’s ever seen.  “It’s converted for vegetable oil use.  Still gotta have some diesel in the secondary tank to start and clear the fuel lines when you stop the engine, but otherwise, just plain old French fry fuel.”</p><p>“That’s amazing.  Did you make this?”  She crouches, peering at the barrels and their tubing and valves.</p><p>“Nah.  Found it at some back to basics retreat place down on the Gulf Coast.  Luckily, they documented everything they did in this self-published book they sold to interested people, so I can at least keep up with everything.”</p><p>She starts to ask why he walked to Atlanta with this at his disposal and then reconsiders.  Engines are loud and limited in where the vehicle can fit.  On foot?  He’s practically invisible if he wants to be, him and Biscuit.  In Atlanta, that would be more important than the countryside.</p><p>“Will it be safe to use?  Diesel’s are noisy.”</p><p>“Yeah.  Wouldn’t take it to Atlanta, because odds of encountering an unfriendly there are too high.  But I’ve driven it with no unwelcome encounters so far.”  He does that little body shift that she thinks is a weird sort of shyness, probably because he’s not used to human company anymore.  “Plus it’s getting too damn cold for you to be rough camping.”</p><p>Not him, she notes.  Part of her wants to protest that she’s too soft to endure anything he can, but it’s stupid to deny that the vehicle will make their search safer and more efficient.  It’s not really about the comforts.  “Plus you won’t have to leave the dogs, right?”</p><p>She hopes not.  The idea of leaving Muffin and the puppies behind makes her want to grind her teeth.   They’re so defenseless, relying on luck and camouflage if Shane is gone trying to find Beth’s missing people.</p><p>“That is the other advantage.  Muffin and Biscuit can hoof it pretty good, but the pups are too young for anything long distance yet.”  Shane clears his throat.  “The barrels carry fifty-five gallons each, and one thing that you can find fairly easy still is vegetable oil.  It’s pretty rancid in the old oil storage tanks behind restaurants, and the stuff still new in the jugs isn’t too much better, but the engine doesn’t care.  Gets about ten miles to the gallon.”</p><p>Remembering complaints and wistfulness as all the jugs the supply teams found were rancid from too many months in Georgia’s heat, Beth nods.  It’s too bad no one ever came across something like this for the prison.  She thinks that her daddy and the other council members would have been a lot less stressed.</p><p>Standing, she studies the rest of the bus.  The front end of the top is one big reinforced rack, like you would see for luggage, but a larger scale.  To the rear of the roof, she sees the outline of what she thinks might be solar panels. There’s racks welded on the back that look different from the rest of the bus, holding cans that look like fuel cans from old war movies. There’s a padlock on the back door, and the windows are carefully obscured.  “Extra supplies go up there?” </p><p>“Yeah.  Inside was converted as a skoolie RV, so there’s not a ton of storage space.  Got a tow hitch, if needed.”  He leads her to the bus’s front door, unlocking another exterior lock here.  Beth precedes him up the steps, looking around curiously.  </p><p>The driver’s seat area seems fairly standard for any small bus, although there are cupboards installed in areas that normally are mostly wasted space on a bus.  On the left is a two-seater dinette that has a third ‘seat’ pushed mostly under the table.  She guesses with the table lowered, it would be a sleeping space, like Dale’s old RV table lowered to make a bed.</p><p>On the right is an actual kitchen counter with a sink and a glass covered two-burner stove.  Above them are several cabinets.  “No fridge?”</p><p>Shane reaches out and slides out the cabinet under the sink.  “Chest style fridge.  Runs off propane or the solar panels on the roof.  Can be a freezer instead, but you gotta pick one or the other.  Dry storage is over here.”  He lifts the seat cushion to one of the dinette seats to show her what’s inside.  “All three of them have storage.”</p><p>When he points to a mirrored set of doors, she goes and opens them to find a tiny toilet in an odd little bathroom.  Based on the drain on the floor, she thinks it may double as a shower stall somehow.  “Combo bath?” she asks, curious.</p><p>“Composting toilet, but converts for a shower if you’re somewhere you can spare the water.  Don’t have a huge tank, just twenty-four gallons, so not all that useful really.  But there is hot water at least.”</p><p>“Probably not.”  Beth thinks it might be easier just to take a bucket bath, to be honest, and save water.  She likes the hot water option.  How long has it been since she had hot water she didn’t have to boil to get it that way?  Granted, Shane told her the boathouse has hot water if the generator’s running, but she hasn’t experienced that.  At least yesterday’s bath was lukewarm instead of prison water frigid.</p><p>At the back of the bus, she reaches the full sized bed and takes note of the way hanging netting normally used for toy stuffed animal storage has been hung with various things in them.  A flat screen TV no larger than most computer monitors Beth remembers is mounted on a swivel arm.</p><p>“Back when I found it, it had a lot more electronics, but I took most of them out.  No need for them nowadays.  They eat up battery power from the solar panels, and the bedroom isn’t truly sound proof.   Changed out the pretty curtains it had for blackout curtains though, so you could use the little TV if you wanted for DVDs.”</p><p>Considering there’s a stack of them in a shelf that doesn’t quite match the original interior, she figures he probably spent a bit of time doing that himself.  She wonders how much time he’s spent in the bus itself, since the boathouse seems to be his primary home.  “If it has captions, that would solve the sound issue, right?”</p><p>The relieved smile he gives her makes her glad she suggested that.  Considering the fights she remembers on the farm about safety and most of the folks thinking he was paranoid, Beth imagines he’s grateful she’s not being spoiled about it.  Hell, it’s been so long since watching a DVD was even an option that watching one muted certainly isn’t a hardship at all.</p><p>“Compared to what I’m used to, this is old world luxury,” she tells him.  “To be honest, I never went further than the prison yard once we mostly secured the place.  Daddy lost his leg in the early days of clearing the prison out.  Got bit and had it amputated, which saved him.  Maggie being obsessed with being every man’s equal and the supply run queen meant I was always the one staying with him.”</p><p>Later there was Judith, often Andre as well, because Michonne was the ultimate badass and direly needed outside the walls.  Honestly, she didn’t mind most days, because too many times the supply runners came back empty handed and exhausted, or they lost someone to unexpected disaster, like Zach.   Just look what happened when she wasn’t right beside Judith for once?  </p><p>~*~*~*~*~*~</p><p>Shane hears the underlying frustration and grief in the girl’s voice and feels sorry for her.  It doesn’t sound like they prepared her much for a world where the fences fell, especially if she was on her own.  It’s a sign of her own stubborn determination that she escaped her kidnappers and stayed safe, he thinks.</p><p>“If we get loaded up quickly, we can be on the road in an hour.  Might make it to the prison by afternoon, depending on the roads.  I haven’t really been over in that part of the state to know for sure.”</p><p>She takes a deep breath and nods.  “Tell me what you need me to help with.”</p><p>His prediction proves correct, because she might be a tiny slip of a girl whose thin frame is obscured by the slightly too large clothing of a teenage boy, but she’s a damned hard worker.  Life in that prison couldn’t have been easy, not the way she keeps marveling over small things like electric lights and the idea of hot water.  Why they settled a prison of all places, he’ll never understand.  Half of Georgia has stout fences, after all.  His boathouse is proof of that.</p><p>“You ever learn to drive?” he asks once the bus is loaded.  Supplies up top, plus what’s inside, should last them about two weeks even if they don’t scavenge.  He hopes he’s found survivors by then.</p><p>Beth looks up from where she’s rigging some sort of rope contraption to hang toilet paper like a wacko daisy chain in the bathroom cubicle and frowns.  “Of course I can drive.  Is it stick shift or something?”</p><p>“No, it’s not.  Guess whoever converted it didn’t want to bother with a manual transmission.”</p><p>“Then I can drive it, but might need practice.  I can drive stick shift, sort of, if it’s like Daddy’s old tractor.”</p><p>Shane starts the engine on the bus, letting it warm up and watching the gauges idly.  “Depends.  His tractor let you shift in motion, or did you stop?”</p><p>“It shifted in motion.”  She nudges one of the pups gently out of the way to take a seat at the dinette closest to him.  There’s a crate tucked under the edge of the bed frame that they will probably spend some travel time in, since they’re too young for being fully housetrained yet.  Shane doesn’t want them up on the furniture until then.  But they all followed their mother’s example to potty before loading onto the bus, so they’re free to explore a while.</p><p>“Should be easy enough if you ever need to try.  With most gasoline spoiling, I’m guessing it wouldn’t hurt to find something to practice on when you can, if you can find a diesel still working.”  Most of the cars out there now are just large hunks of useless metal unless some scrap of government manages a refinery again.  He doubts that’ll ever happen, especially not when diesel’s easier to produce and no environmental oversight to limit it.</p><p>Everything’s ready to switch over, so he does so, explaining the process.  If anything did happen to him, she needs to know how everything works.  Before he puts the bus in gear, he gets up and goes to drop the three bars that hook into place across the folding front door.  “Always make sure it’s secure, because the retracting arm won’t keep a determined pack of walkers out.”</p><p>Somehow, Shane represses the memory of being trapped in that bus after the fight with Rick, desperately trying to keep the door shut.  It was the first modification he made to the bus when he decided to take it to explore his way back up from the Florida coast into Georgia.  The second was the blackout curtains that can cover every single window so no light creeps out at night and nothing can see if they’re pulled in daytime.  All the front ones are pulled open for now, including the front living area so Beth’s not sitting in the half-dark.</p><p>Beth eyes those three braces and nods carefully.  He suspects she knows there’s a story behind them, since three is a bit overkill, but she doesn’t ask.  Compared to what he remembers of Maggie, the girl is practically a ghost for all she talks.  Hoping it’s a natural inclination and not some fear of remembering his fits of temper back at the farm, Shane settles back in the seat.</p><p>Checking the interior one last time, he sees that Biscuit is lounging on the bed like he prefers, and Muffin comes forward to settle next to him as he drives.  The pups keep sniffing about, loving the new space.  Beth quietly spreads out the map on the table, turning her attention to that.  Satisfied they’re as prepared as they can get, he heads for the stout gate of the once proud property and the outside world.</p><p>~*~*~*~*~*~</p><p>Carol is exhausted and aching, and the lingering scent of the damned walker blood and guts on that makeshift poncho is seared into her sinuses.  The smoke from the fire that followed the explosion she caused makes her eyes water, but she admits as soon as Daryl’s lifted her right off her feet that she’s also crying.</p><p>“Oh, Christ Almighty, you’re alive,” he mutters over and over.  Then he sets her on her feet.  “I looked and looked, but I couldn’t find Sophia or Andre or Judith.  Just Beth, and I lost her.  Assholes stole her right away from me.”  His voice breaks, and he gives a little sob, never one not to grieve openly.  Barely back to himself after Merle’s death, the man turned all his rage and grief from that into looking after the children of the group like an avenging angel serving as an overprotective uncle.</p><p>“Daryl!” She grabs his shoulders and shakes him, ignoring everyone else, because other than Carl’s gloriously alive face, he’s the most important one here.</p><p>“M’sorry.”  He rubs at his eyes, and she thinks how odd it is that he isn’t wearing his battered leather vest.  The random thought skitters across her exhausted mind, even as she also registers that Carl’s missing that damned deputy’s hat of his.</p><p>“They’re alive, Daryl.  Sophia got Judith out and Andre too.”  She hears multiple cries of joy beyond them, glad that she brings Michonne and Carl some happy news.</p><p>Daryl blinks disbelievingly.  “All by herself?”</p><p>“With what you taught her?  Yeah.  Tyreese found them hiding in that hunting cabin you showed all the kids.  That’s where I found them all when I came to see why the prison was burning.”</p><p>Her banishment was one of the stupidest things Rick Grimes could try, acting as if he could actually separate her from the children she’s sworn her very life to protect.  That’s not just Sophia.  She just waited, biding her time for the sickness to pass.  They’re so foolish on watch these days that she got right to the fences several times, passing notes to Sophia on how to be prepared to leave when the time came.</p><p>The Governor reappearing out of nowhere fucked all those plans, but Sophia remembered the cabin as her first stop on an escape.</p><p>“Where are they?” Michonne asks, shaking like a leaf when she stumbles forward.  “They’re safe?”</p><p>“Tyreese has them at a little guard shack these people used.  Their guard was happy to spill all the information I needed when I realized y’all had walked into a trap.  Follow me.”</p><p>They follow her like puppies, and her heart aches badly at seeing so many survivors but not Beth.  Losing her will damn near kill Daryl as another failure to add to the immense guilt he carries, and this blow will be worse than most because it’s a child to protect.  Nevermind that Beth’s not even a teenager anymore.  In Daryl’s eyes, she’s always going to be that scared kid who slit her wrist at the farm because no one taught her how to survive in a world gone to hell.</p><p>Thin arms wrap around her as they walk, and Carol smiles down at Carl, throwing an arm across his shoulders.  Rick may have been making strides to repair the months of neglect he inflicted on his son after Lori died, but when the boy was abandoned?  That’s when Carol lived up to her promise to his dead mother that she would protect Lori’s children as fiercely as her own.  The man in question is on Daryl’s other side as the hunter walks next to Carol, for once opting for diplomacy and not pushing his luck with Carol.</p><p>That’s good, because while she understands the basic idea that he thinks he was protecting her as much as anyone else she might kill in some rampage of cleansing the prison, right now she still wants to feed him his own damned balls.</p><p>The reunions are bittersweet, with Andre clinging to his mama and Sasha squeezing Tyreese so tight the man actually sounds pained.  Judith is passed around, from Rick’s guilty and grateful tears to Carl’s excited kisses to Daryl’s delicate cradling like she’s the rarest treasure on Earth.  But the baby cranes her neck, looking for who isn’t there, missing Beth like she has for days now.</p><p>Daryl is the first to make the realization of who Judith wants to find, and he presses a firm kiss to her soft hair. “We’ll find her, baby girl.  We’ll find your Bet.”  Sophia releases Carl from his strangle-hug to throw her arms around Daryl and Judith, nodding determinedly.</p><p>Yes, they will.  Carol found the rest of her people, despite the odds being astronomical.  They’ll find somewhere safe to stay, let everyone get a night’s rest, and her figure out who these newcomers are in their midst as well.</p><p>Then she and Daryl will find Beth if they have to turn over every damned rock in the entire state of Georgia.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Two separate groups turning over rocks in Georgia...  I feel bad as the evil author not letting them succeed for months.  Bad author, bad!  (Yes, Daryl's missing vest and Carl's missing hat are Important Plot Points.)</p><p>Some limited insight to how the group flexed and changed with Carol and Michonne not losing their children.  There will be future blurbs into the other group, probably fairly often, if not as an endcap to every chapter.  POVs will rotate between those closest to Beth, so expect to see Daryl, Carl, and Sophia as well. </p><p>Cool links that inspired the Turtle Bus (remove spaces):<br/>https:// www.instructables.com/ id/ Biotour.org-Waste-Vegetable-Oil-Conversion-Diesel-/<br/>https:// vicarib.us/ complete-bus-conversion-guide/</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Escaping Nightmares</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Beth and Shane find the prison a few clues on who survived, but their search for the living is sidetracked by a quest to lay Hershel Greene to rest.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Returning to the prison is a heartache Beth isn't entirely prepared to endure.  Rather than scout on foot, Shane drives the bus right up to it.  She focuses on him instead of the destruction of her once home, watching that analytical expression of his shift as he studies it all quickly. Then he does a U-turn and drives away as the roaming walkers get too interested in the bus.</p><p>Once they've lost their unwanted company, he pulls over on a little side road and turns to face her.  "Can you sketch out places I should look in there?"</p><p>"You're going into the prison?" she asks, astounded.  There aren't as many walkers as she expected, probably because without people there as a lure, many started wandering off.</p><p>"It would be the best way to assess who didn't make it out."</p><p>Beth points out the flaw in his logic. "You don't know most of our people."</p><p>"Not going to ask you to walk into that place."</p><p>"Then don't ask.  How are you gonna do it safely?" She's tired of people underestimating her, dammit.</p><p>Shane studies her for a long moment before motioning for her to follow him.  Outside the bus, he climbs up and retrieves one of those vacuum sealed bags like her mama stored off season clothing in to keep it safe from moths. But when he releases the seal, the stench clues her in quickly.</p><p>"You want to pretend to be a walker."</p><p>"Done it a few times when I had to get into somewhere swarmed.  Glenn and Rick did something similar in Atlanta."</p><p>"Then we both pretend."</p><p>What she likes is that Shane doesn't argue with her.  Instead, he tells her to braid her hair up and passes her a knitted cap from his own belongings to cover it.  The protective suit that once served to protect someone's clothing and skin in the workplace is too big for Beth, obviously intended for Shane's muscular form.  But they get it refitted by blousing the extra leg length into her boots and affixing the rolled up arms in place with duct tape.</p><p>She thinks she might kiss him for the Vicks vapor rub he dabs under her nose, though.  The menthol smell isn't pleasant, but at least it's not rotted decay.</p><p>"Old trick from my cop days.  Coroner's people taught me.  It's how they dealt with bodies already gone rancid."</p><p>Filing that away, Beth watches him don the second suit.  Shane leaves the escape window open on the bus.  It's too high for a walker to access, but still puzzles her until he explains.  "Dogs can get out of it if we don't come back."</p><p>The open acknowledgement that this is a dangerous undertaking actually settles her nerves.  They aren't carrying guns, just knives and a machete each on utility belts he scrounges up.  Shane even has an equally stinky backpack he shows her is lined with plastic to protect scavenged contents.</p><p>"This trip ain't about shock and awe," he tells her.  "Quiet and slow.  Find what we need and not alert the dead we're imitating them."</p><p>Nodding, she follows him into the woods.  He's not entirely done with their disguise, because before they reach the exterior fence, Shane takes down a walker and dips gloved fingers in the resulting gore.  It takes an act of extreme self control for Beth to endure the goop painted onto her skin.</p><p>When she opens her eyes, stomach under control, he's watching her carefully.  Her resolve must show, because he gives her an approving look before painting stripes of bloody gore on his own face.  They look like a disgusting parody of the soldiers she's seen in documentaries. Him adding extra fresh layers to the stink already on the suit is nothing after it being slimed onto her skin.</p><p>As soon as they approach the gates, his pace changes and slows.  Beth copies Shane's limping gait, tense that somehow their disguise will fail despite his confidence.  But none of the walkers pay them any mind.</p><p>Shane sees something and silently directs her toward the gate itself, keeping his bulk between her and the damaged tank.  It takes Beth a minute to register what he's probably protecting her from seeing.  She tamps down any surge of grief, reminding herself her daddy's in a much better place now.</p><p>After that, she looks around carefully, taking note of the dead faces.  Some she recognizes, some she doesn't.  He lets her lead, bringing them into the prison itself.  There are no walkers roaming the halls on the way to her old quarters.  There is nothing to lure them inside anymore.</p><p>Beth still checks each cell, softly identifying each for Shane's benefit. In Rick and Carl's, he stands frozen for long enough to worry her.  It reminds her that Judith isn't the only family this lonely man has left.</p><p>She motions for him to open his bag and tucks a couple of small items inside.  Taking a few things those close enough to be family might want back is repeated in other cells until they reach her own.</p><p>Her hands shake as Beth takes her daddy's Bible and wraps it carefully in one of his old shirts.  Shane lets her drop it in the pack and surprises her by taking one of her hands and squeezing it gently.  She's struck by the out of the blue realization that he's been very careful not to touch her and files it away for later.</p><p>Instead, she adds her daddy's spare set of suspenders to the bag, along with a couple of small keepsakes of her own.  Inside the battered paperback copy of To Kill a Mockingbird is a gift for Shane best shared later.  Beth notices him staring at the old mail tub turned bassinet.</p><p>"She outgrew it a few months back," Beth explains softly.  Now it's the baby's clothing basket.  "Been sleeping with me or Carl since then."</p><p>She spies tears as he runs his fingers along the rough edges of plastic, but she doesn't comment on them.  Tears aren't so far off for herself, not in this tiny cell where she lived with her daddy and the small scrap of promise for the future that Judith was for everyone.  Her chest aches as if part of her is missing, and separating which grief is Daddy dying and which is Judith missing seems impossible.</p><p>"Her diaper bag and backpack carrier are both missing." Good signs, she thinks, because Sophia is a fierce kid Beth suspected had some sort of plan around her mama's recent banishment.  That gives her an idea.</p><p>"We had an escape plan for all of the kids.  Was something Daryl and Carol came up with, after Carol started training all the kids to defend themselves even though the council said they were too young."</p><p>Shane jars out of the semi-trance he's in and nods.  "Makes sense.  Always prepare for the worst, and hope for the best."</p><p>When he takes a soft doll out of its spot among Beth's bedding, she has to smile at the sight of the gore covered man delicately putting the baby's toy in his pack and closing it up.  She leads the way back into the yard, finding the remote spot on the fence easily.  It isn't wired shut now, but there's no need anymore.</p><p>Ducking through the fence, Beth puts her feet on the path.  When she told Shane she never left the prison, it wasn't entirely true.  Daryl led her out here twice, once during the day and once at night, making sure she knew the way.  There are two downed walkers along the faint path, damaged at the knees and head.</p><p>"One of the kids came through," she tells him. "Daryl taught us to bring them down to our level."</p><p>Shane nods approvingly as they continue onward.  "Smart idea.  Even if you don't get the head, they can't chase you anymore."</p><p>Although Daryl never put it like that, it makes sense, too.  Beth can imagine being in a hurry and just needing to escape instead of being thorough.  "I'll remember that."</p><p>The cabin is where she remembers it, and the door is latched shut with that odd system Daryl rigged up to show it was closed by someone safe and known.  Beth undoes it, but she's still careful about easing inside.</p><p>~*~*~*~*~</p><p>Shane follows the girl into the dim cabin, letting her lead in her familiar territory.  She lights an oil lamp on the table, casting the cabin into flickering golden light.  As Beth looks around carefully, he tries to deal with the emotions the trip through the prison stirred up.</p><p>The doll.  Carl's comics.  A battered King County uniform shirt.  All of those things dig into the place inside him that he tried to seal off to protect his sanity.  Knowing Lori was dead is different from seeing the lack of any sign of her, and that grief is sharper than he expected.</p><p>He's been too cowardly to ask Beth for details on Lori, revelling instead in stories of Judith and Carl.  But something about today, seeing the woman erased, feels wrong.  As angry and twisted as things were between them at the end, Shane can't help the absolute gut wrenching sense of guilt that his own carelessness killed Lori just as he accused Rick that the other man would cause.</p><p>Beth interrupts his dark thoughts as she makes a happy noise.  She's peering into something under a trap door in the floor. "Someone accessed Daryl's root cellar."</p><p>On closer inspection, Shane can see the trap door is newer than the rest of the cabin.  In the soft earth beneath the little shack, one of the large, almost industrial ice chest coolers is buried almost to its lid.  Beth has the lid off, checking the food supplies.</p><p>"All the baby food is missing.  Daryl made this to keep things cool so they wouldn't spoil in the heat even in the cans.  We can't find safe formula anymore, since that really does expire, we think, due to the dairy.  But there should be several days worth of baby food jars."</p><p>Shane remembers Grandma Jean grumbling about illiterate people confusing best by dates on store bought food with actual expiration dates.  He didn't realize formula had such a short lifespan, though, since he has canned milk in his supplies that still has months left on the best by date.  Formula isn't really milk in the same way, with all the additives, though.  It probably messes up the longevity.</p><p>"Anything else missing?" he asks, looking around with more curiosity.  If he's truthful, the idea that Daryl Dixon wouldn't trust the prison completely and would make a backup plan specifically for the kids isn't surprising.  As much as he clashed with the redneck months ago, Shane can acknowledge the man comes from one of the better backgrounds for this current world.</p><p>Beth shuffles around, careful not to touch too much, but she retrieves a sturdy backpack.  "My bag is still here.  Carl's and Daryl's, too.  But the ones for Carol, Sophia, Andre, and Judith are all gone."</p><p>"Andre?" That name is unfamiliar to Shane.</p><p>"He's Michonne's son.  They came to us right after Judith was born and stayed.  I looked after him because Michonne was needed on supply runs.  If you come across a woman with dreads and a katana, that's her."</p><p>Shane thinks of the almost unbelievable idea that the fragile seeming, barely teenage girl he remembers Sophia being got herself and two small kids safely to this cabin and feels a surge of hope.  If the children are this competent in essentially a battle zone, surely they're still out there somewhere.</p><p>"Any other safe havens?" he asks.</p><p>Beth shakes her head and douses the lamp.  "Daryl was going to set up a few more, but they kept needing him for other things.  He kept really quiet on worrying they were needed, because everyone wanted to think the prison was always going to be safe."</p><p>Outside the cabin, Shane watches as she reengages the door latch.  "Maybe no one will come back here, but they'll know I was here when my bag is missing if they do.  Daryl will remember we didn't make it to the cabin."</p><p>As they head back through the trees on a cross country hike back to the bus, Shane puzzles over that.  "Why didn't you come to the cabin?"</p><p>Beth glances up at the sun and back to the cabin and the path to the prison.  "We ended up on the other side, initially.  And to be honest, I don't think either of us was in our right minds for a while."</p><p>It makes sense, in a way, after surviving a battle where they watched Hershel brutally murdered in front of them to start it off.  Shane certainly can't criticize crisis decision making anymore. "We'll circle back to town and find a phone book.  Start retracing your trail."</p><p>It's the only option now, since the scattered denizens of the prison could be anywhere.  No one alerted to him and Beth entering or leaving the prison.  They make it back to the bus, and Shane lets the dogs out for a potty run while he and Beth pack away the walker gear and scrub their skin the best they can with baby wipes and a wash bucket.</p><p>The girl falls quiet as she sorts through the things they took from the prison and cabin.  He doesn't say anything when she packs everything but her clothes back into the backpack from the cabin, even the handmade rag doll that belongs to the baby.  Beth takes everything into the bus, coming back out with lunch for them while Shane watches the dogs explore.</p><p>"Coule I ask you something that might be risky for us to do?" </p><p>Shane turns, swallowing the bite of stew he just took.  "Sure." He can't imagine her asking something frivolous.</p><p>"I want to bury my daddy, if we can."</p><p>Remembering the sight of the old veterinarian he kept her from seeing, Shane can't help his instant agreement.  "Could drive up again.  Should be able to rig something to bring him away with us."</p><p>The hug he gets in response nearly makes him drop his bowl, and Shane isn't entirely sure of how to return a hug anymore.  But he pats the girl's back, realizing belatedly that she's crying against him.</p><p>Later, it ends up easy enough.  Beth drives, letting him hop off the bus with a tarp from his supplies.  Gloves protect him as he eases the man's body onto the tarp, flinching at the decay evident.  His body didn't turn, so it's well on the way to being reclaimed by Georgia's heat,  humidity, and insects.  Someone was kind enough to end the limited unlife of Hershel Greene, so Shane is spared that as he places the man's head with his body.</p><p>He's attracting attention he doesn't want, so he secures the tarp quickly and attaches it to the hooks on the back of the bus in a sad parody of the hammock that's supposed to hang from them.  Once Shane clears the bus door, Beth drives away, even as he shuts the door behind him.</p><p>Beth takes them back to the town closest to the prison.  There are a few walkers staggering around, but nothing Shane finds concerning.  "Park up by that hardware store."</p><p>Shane actually lets Biscuit off the bus, relying on the dog's better senses as they ease inside and return with the phone book.  "Drive east out of town and find a place you want for your father," he suggests.  He sits with the book and map, finding the likely spots for the funeral home and country club.</p><p>Beth is a mile out of town when she pulls over at a sunny field that has a single pecan tree towering over the remains of an abandoned garden.  The house is further back, but the girl just starts at that tree.  He realizes the tree looks a lot like the one her mother is buried under back at that farm.</p><p>"Beth?" Shane asks when she just stares.  "The farm isn't impossibly far away, you know."  It's the answer to whatever is bothering her, because she bursts into tears again, and for the second time today, he's being hugged.</p><p>"You're sure?  I feel like I should be looking for Maggie and the others, not taking Daddy home."</p><p>"Most we'll lose really is an afternoon.  We can get there before dark and set back out before daylight."</p><p>She nods at his words and looks at the map, going back to the driver's seat.  Since Beth seems to need the extra activity, he concentrates on marking places to check out that fit what descriptions she managed about her time with Daryl. If these don't pan out, they'll try the next county and hope her people aren't headed in the complete wrong direction.</p><p>Going back to the farm makes Shane's skin crawl.  He can almost feel Otis's ghost lingering to remind him of his past crime.  Beth doesn't argue when he insists on doing all the digging to lay Hershel next to his wife and son.  Instead, she approaches the house with the same sort of apprehension he has for the cairn that memorializes Otis.</p><p>It is full dark before he is done, finishing the job by the light of a lantern.  Beth helps him ease Hershel's body into the grave, still wrapped in the tarp.  They both fill it in, quiet work punctuated by the sounds of nightlife on the deserted farm.</p><p>Shane leaves her to her goodbyes, retreating to confront ghosts of his own as he stands where the camp once was, looking toward the path he took away from the farm.  It feels like a step toward redemption for what he did, bringing Hershel Greene home and escorting Beth wherever she needs to go.  Maybe this is something Otis might find worth forgiving him for.</p><p>"Shane?"</p><p>It's Beth's concern that draws him back from dark paths he tries to keep his thoughts away from.  Patting her on the shoulder, he follows her inside the bus to a late supper.  Attempts to sleep don't come easy for either of them, even with the cluster of puppies cuddled to her in the bed.</p><p>Shane watches her toss and turn from his spot on the converted table-bed and finally sits up.  "Night driving isn't a horrible idea tonight, I think."</p><p>The relieved smile he's given as Beth scrambles from the covers with Jelly in her arms tells him all he needs to know.  Within minutes, they're on their way from the farm, letting the drive soothe the emotions that sleep refuses to take away.</p><p>~*~*~*~*~</p><p>The church creeps Carl out, and the priest even moreso.  He finds himself too restless to sleep, even though being awake means his dad keeps looking at him like he might disappear or combust or something.  What he was threatened with before Terminus was terrifying, caught in the ugly claws of the Claimers.  </p><p>He honestly can't decide which was worse, though, that or being bent over the slaughter trough.  His skin crawls and makes it harder to be still.  Everyone is unsettled, though, even the new people who seem set on going to Washington, DC.  Not that they'll listen, but the entire idea is stupid, especially since Carl's group doesn't have all their people back yet.</p><p>Sophia comes back from the bathroom, and he goes to sit with her.  She's warm against his side and doesn't mind when he leans his head on her shoulder.  They watch Judith sleep for a while.</p><p>"I don't want to go to DC," he tells her.</p><p>"Me either. Mama won't go.  Not until she's sure Beth is lost for good."</p><p>Lost sounds so much better than dead, because lost feels like Beth might reappear one day.  It doesn't hold the aching finality of Carl making sure his mama didn't turn or watching Daryl fall apart over his brother's grave.  The nightmare image of grandfatherly Hershel's last moments are etched in Carl's brain forever.</p><p>Exhaustion eventually claims them both, sending youngsters down to huddle around Judith.  When the nightmares do come, as they inevitably do, at least they can find each other's hands in the dark.  Clasped across the baby's tiny form, it feels like to Carl they can protect her forever, somehow.  Despite the creeping ugliness in the back of his mind, he holds to that idea.</p><p>Judith's baby snores next to his ear and Sophia's warm hand clasped in his own...such a simple sort of hope.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Not a lot of puppies in this one... More next time since they won't be tramping through a prison and the woods where the puppies aren't safe.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. No One's Expendable</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Shane and Beth start following the signs to Terminus, Sophia confronts Abraham about his bargaining with people's lives, and Carol leads Daryl into Atlanta looking for Beth.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Despite the fact that they decided night driving was okay, Beth and Shane do end up pulling over finally and finding a place to hide the bus and sleep.  It’s a short night for them, both awake almost as soon as dawn breaks, eating a makeshift breakfast as Shane lets her drive again.  She likes the easy way he just assumes her competence once she does something, even though she’s about ninety percent certain that he still sees her as a kid.</p><p>It’s a welcome change from being treated as a child despite being two years beyond legal adult age now.  Then again, she remembers him advocating for everyone learning to shoot, all that time ago, even Carl.  She glances back when he directs her on the next turn to the location he thinks was the funeral home she and Daryl stayed in.</p><p>How insulted would he or Daryl be if they knew she was comparing their similarities?  They didn’t seem to like each other back before Shane left, but it probably explains why Rick became such good friends with Daryl once Shane was gone.</p><p>“This is it,” Beth says quietly as she pulls up in front of the once pristine building.  “We found a lot of supplies, as if someone were staying here, but Daryl didn’t think they had been back recently.  Either traveling or something happened while they were out.”</p><p>“How long did you stay?”</p><p>“Not long enough.  There was this dog, kind of beat up and one eyed.  It came to the door once, but ran away.  So when we heard noises again, we thought it was the dog.  It was walkers, instead.”</p><p>Beth remembers the sounds of the dog in distress and flinches, reaching out to pick up a puppy and cuddle it close.  Shane studies the building carefully, before looking back to his map.  “I figured if Daryl retraced his tracks, looking for you, he would come here first, since it’s the last building you were both in.”</p><p>“Do we go inside?”  She can see walkers still, some of which are trying to get past a body in the floor where Daryl must have left it in giving her time to get out that window.</p><p>Shane tugs at his beard, eying the entrance.  One of the walkers has gotten free of the doorway now by virtue of falling over the speed bump body.  It hasn’t made it back to its feet yet.  “You up to helping take them down?”</p><p>The walker that’s loose is one of the biggest men Beth’s ever seen in her life.  Despite her bravado, and working the fence to kill walkers from time to time, taking on one that big that’s free to move closer is intimidating.  Daryl tried to fill in the blanks for her, but he didn’t have long enough to really train her once they were outside the prison.  “Will you show me how?”</p><p>That gets her a long, serious look, but he nods.  Unhooking gear stored near the bus door, he offers her a machete.  “Start with this, and we’ll work with something ranged later.  Maybe a slingshot.  You keep up with shooting after the farm?”</p><p>Beth shakes her head.  “Was never spared the ammo.”</p><p>“Christ Almighty.  Not an issue.  We’ll fix that,” Shane declares, just as the hefty walker makes it to its feet somehow.  “Watch how I do this.  Short as you are, most walkers are going to be taller and heavier.  You gotta fight dirty.”</p><p>Stepping off the bus, he strides toward the walker, sidestepping it rather than going for the head like Beth is used to seeing loose walkers taken down.  She was right that it’s a behemoth, because it’s at least a head taller than Shane, and he’s at least that much taller than she is.  With a vicious swing of the machete, Shane hamstrings the walker from behind before it can turn to grab him.  It tumbles to the ground, making the second slash of the blade an easy blow to the skull after Shane stomps on the hand closest to him.</p><p>Stepping off the bus, Beth latches the door, leaving even Biscuit inside for now.  Coming to stand beside Shane, she watches as two walkers win free this time.  “Never step in close to their hands even if they’re down unless you can pin the hand under your boot,” he cautions.  “They can trip you, just as easy as you can trip them.  But stomping the hand will often crush bones.  Makes it harder for them to grab on if you miss the blow to the head.”</p><p>“Okay.”  It makes sense, slotting in neatly with half-remembered lessons from Daryl over the last year or so.  </p><p>Gripping her machete firmly, she approaches the shorter of the two walkers, who is still taller and heavier than she is.  The sensation of the blade impacting rotting flesh makes her want to vomit, as it always did when she worked the fence.  It goes down with a thud, and Beth is clumsier than Shane in planting a boot on its hand.  She’s really glad he warned her about why she should do it, because the crunch of bone and slippery squish of flesh startles her enough she almost misses the thing’s head.</p><p>The ‘gross gross gross’ mantra in her head was apparently said out loud, because Shane chuckles.  Blushing, Beth looks over to see that he’s downed the other walker, but he seems as much appreciative as amused, so she doesn’t comment.  When no more walkers emerge from the building, he starts forward, motioning for her to follow.</p><p>“As good as this body was for slowing them down for us, never step over anything into a building until you’re sure the brain is destroyed.”  Shane eyes the bolt in the thing’s head and tugs it free.  “This is Daryl’s, correct?”</p><p>Looking at the handmade bolt, Beth nods.  “Guess that means he hasn’t been back, because he wouldn’t leave those behind.”</p><p>“That’s what I would think, anyway.  Lot of work goes into making these.”  She’s surprised when he cleans the tip off on the walker’s clothes and hands it to her.  “Hang onto it.  I’m sure he’ll appreciate getting it back.”</p><p>Liking his confidence they’ll find the others somehow, Beth takes it while Shane drags the body out of the building.  Their search goes as expected, collecting bolts and killing two more walkers still inside the building.  She shows him the window she slipped through, and he seems to be making note of the direction.  </p><p>“Should we take any of the supplies?” Beth asks as they walk back through the building.</p><p>“We don’t really need them.  Might as well leave them be in case the resident returns from a trip like I took.”  </p><p>He doesn’t object when she goes to add to the note she left, though, appending a note for Daryl in case the man finds the funeral home again before anyone else.</p><p>Back on the bus after cleaning their weapons and boots, Beth sighs, reaching for Jelly and plopping the hyperactive little girl pup in her lap.  Shane studies the map long enough to make her uneasy.</p><p>“Are we going to try the country club or the shack?” she asks at last.</p><p>“I’ve got a different idea to check out first.”  Tapping the map, Shane draws her eyes to the railroad tracks not far away.  “There are signs along the tracks about a community further east.  They’re too open about trying to attract new people for me to be comfortable with them, so I’ve never even gone up to see if they’re open to trade.”</p><p>“Do you think others would trust them?”  Beth can’t imagine any community being that trusting, but maybe not all communities had to face someone like the Governor multiple times.</p><p>“I think that desperate people will grasp at straws they might not otherwise,” he tells her.  “I’ll take a turn at driving.  There’s not enough roadway parallel to the tracks to suit me, but I think we can actually get the bus onto the tracks safely.  It’s worth a try.”</p><p>~*~*~*~*~</p><p>What Shane doesn’t tell the girl yet is that he’s been all the way to this Terminus.  His own inability to feel comfortable among people led to caution, and he never ventured to that gate.  Watching them from a distance, something just seemed wrong with their willingness to let anyone walk inside and be welcomed.  That was back in the spring, and he hasn’t been back since.</p><p>The train tracks are close enough to the prison to imagine at least some of the residents coming across the signs, and he knows the broadcast is on the radio.  As he directs the bus onto the tracks, carefully crunching along to reduce wear and tear on the tires, Shane looks back to where Beth is quietly putting together a lunch even as they travel.  All three pups are watching her with intent eyes, making him want to laugh. </p><p>Even Muffin is watching, although she’s still standoffish with Beth, unlike Biscuit, who Shane is starting to think is going to want to stay with the young blonde.  As much as he doesn’t like the idea of losing his longtime companion, he might even be okay with the girl having that extra layer of protection that the devoted pit bull would give her… and Judith.</p><p>At the first sign, he stops the bus and calls Beth up to take a look.</p><p>“Sanctuary for all.  Community for all.  Those who arrive, survive.”  The girl’s voice sounds disbelieving, which surprises him a little.  Then again, she survived seeing her father murdered in front of her, followed by a kidnapping.  Having any sort of naivety about human nature after that would be a tall order for even the sweetest natured person.  </p><p>“There’s taking in others, and then there’s drawing a map to your location,” Shane mutters.</p><p>“No kidding.”  Beth eyes that literal map and all the railways leading to the Terminus location.  “It’s like painting a target on yourself.”</p><p>Shane reaches out and turns on the radio, catching her puzzled look.  Through the static, the garbled transmission begins, and her eyes widen.  “They also broadcast this, although how many people even bother with a radio to hear, I don’t know.”</p><p>“Have you ever gone there?” she asks, looking thoughtfully at him.</p><p>“Once.  Watched them from the trees a while, but something didn’t feel right.  That was back in the spring, right after I got back to Georgia.  Didn’t see anyone I knew.”  That’s what really mattered, looking for any familiar faces.</p><p>“Do we really have to follow the tracks, then?”</p><p>“No, but it lets us look for others who might be walking.  Otherwise, we could outpace them and miss them entirely.”</p><p>“Alright.”  Beth returns to the food she prepared and hands him his share.  They make short work of the food before getting back underway.</p><p>An hour later, passing a few more signs, Shane sees the first altered one.  He almost doesn’t stop, because the impact of the words hits him quickly, and he suspects Beth won’t miss it either.  She’s curled on the bench seat, puppies in her lap, looking out the window on the side away from where the signs are.  He could just keep going.</p><p>The idea of being dishonest with her doesn’t sit well with him in the end, and he stops the bus.  “Beth?  Got something you need to see.”</p><p>Setting each of the puppies down on the floor, she ventures forward.  He knows the exact moment she makes the connection he did, because Beth makes this choked noise that sounds like someone kicked her in the gut.  Uncertain of what to do for her, Shane snakes a hand out and rests a hand against her back.</p><p>There are tears in her blue eyes when she turns to look at him.  “She thinks I’m dead.  Or too weak to survive or not important enough to leave guidance for.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, Beth.”  It’s close to his opinion on poor little Sophia, back when she was lost, so he can’t exactly condemn Maggie.  Shane guesses the sisters don’t spend much time together, based on what stories Beth tells him never really featuring Maggie at all.  It wouldn’t be the first time someone found a romantic partner and abandoned all who came before them.  “But at least you know she’s alive and made it this far, right?”</p><p>It gets him another of those unexpected hugs, except this time, since he’s sitting down, the hug involves a lapful of tearful girl.  He holds her until the tears ease, offering a clean bandana when she finally lets go enough to lean back as far as the steering wheel allows.</p><p>Scrubbing at her face roughly, Beth sighs.  “I’m sorry for that.”</p><p>“Nothing that needs apologizing for,” he tells her gruffly.</p><p>The smile she gives him is a weak imitation of the ones he’s getting used to as she stands.  “She’s alive.  I guess we best go prove her wrong about me, huh?”</p><p>Putting the bus back in gear, Shane nods.  “It’ll make one hell of a reunion.”</p><p>~*~*~*~*~</p><p>“Stop it!  All of you, just <i>stop it</i>!”</p><p>Sophia starts shaking, whether from nerves or anger, she can’t really say.  Everyone’s eyes are riveted on her right now after she shouted at them.  She draws confidence from the fact that Carl nudges close to her, the boy’s hand finding hers and squeezing while he holds Judith on his opposite hip.</p><p>The adults have descended into nearly brawling, or Rick and the new man, Abraham, have.  It’s what Sophia’s late, unlamented father called dick wagging, she thinks.  She would have to ask Daryl to be sure.</p><p>“You’re a coward,” she says, and from the puzzled looks, no one is sure who she is aiming that insult toward.  “Things get scary, and you’re <i>running away</i>?”</p><p>Abraham jerks back as if she slapped him.  “I have a mission, girl.  You’re not old enough to understand it.”</p><p>Sophia scoffs, shaking her head. “I’m old enough to understand when someone wants to run away because they don’t like the odds.  Don’t piss on my leg and tell me it’s raining.”  Daryl says that all the time, and it just <i>fits</i> all this stupidity of adults telling her she’s not old enough to understand.  Bunch of damned idiots.</p><p>“Sophia,” Glenn says softly, using that sweet tone he always adopts when he’s trying to calm down arguing people.  “It’s his right to keep his people safe.  He doesn’t owe us anything.”</p><p>Cutting her eyes back to the big redhead, Sophia shakes her head again.  “Bargaining with people’s lives.  ‘I’ll help if I keep Glenn and Maggie,’” she mocks, trying for a deep voice and probably failing.  “It’s <i>bullshit</i>!  It’s what my daddy would have done, and Glenn, you remember what kind of monster Ed was. My mama saved you, and you just leave and run away while she’s missing.”</p><p>Because it’s dark now.  Her mama and Daryl aren’t back, and no one has wanted to risk searching yet.  Sophia didn’t argue that, because if anyone can conquer obstacles out there, it’s Daryl and her mama, and maybe they found a lead for where Beth is.  But now there are bad men outside, Bob is maimed and dying, and this <i>asshole</i> is <i>running away</i>.  If the adults won’t say it, she will.</p><p>The other new man is watching her intently, head tilted to one side.  “The little girl is quite correct, Abraham.  It is most cowardly of us to abandon a woman with such ingenuity that she engineered an escape from that rat trap we wandered into so thoughtlessly.” Looking away from Sophia at last, Eugene stares down Abraham.  “Wouldn’t a woman of her skills be invaluable to our mission?  Why save the world if we become worse than the monsters we defeat in the process, abandoning children to such unknown fates?”</p><p>Abraham looks baffled for a moment, gaze going from Eugene to Sophia to Rick and Glenn.  Something seems to settle in him, because he takes a deep breath, blinking rapidly.  “We need a plan,” he says at last.</p><p>When Glenn smiles that tricky smile of his, Sophia knows they’ll survive, somehow, because outside of her own mama, Glenn’s the best at figuring out things like this.  If her mama could take on Terminus all by herself, she knows that Glenn can figure out a way to take down a handful of leftovers her mama’s attack missed.  He’s smart, and he won’t see anyone as expendable to protect one person like the army sergeant will.</p><p>~*~*~*~*~</p><p>Carol knows they shouldn’t have left the others with no warning at all, but when Daryl spotted the car with the markings like the one that took Beth, there was no other choice.  The inaction of following them is getting to Carol, though, even if she did reluctantly agree with Daryl that running them off the road wasn’t the best plan.  Instead, they’re getting closer and closer to Atlanta, further from the children they also need to be protecting.</p><p>Losing the assholes in cop uniforms isn’t part of the plan, but running out of fuel just seems to suit the run of on again, off again luck they seem to have.  </p><p>“We gotta find a place to sleep for the night,” Daryl says, voice soft with regret, like he somehow caused all this to happen.  “Start looking again in the morning.”</p><p>Swallowing hard, Carol agrees.  This close to a clue about where Beth is?  The kids will never forgive her if she returns without doing her best to track it down.  Losing the time to find a car and return to convince the others they can find Beth could be time the girl doesn’t have.  There is no situation Carol can imagine where a pretty blond girl being snatched up turns out well for the girl in question.</p><p>She trusts that Michonne, Tyreese, and Glenn will look after Sophia.  Hell, Sophia already proved she’s capable of looking after herself.  Instead, Carol leads Daryl to a place that haunts her nightmares, hoping that tonight it’ll be the sanctuary it wasn’t before.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The timeline is a little screwy right now, but it's mostly on purpose.  Granted, by the time Sophia is yelling at Abraham, Shane and Beth would have arrived at Terminus, but that's going to be a complex chapter on its own.</p><p>Obviously, Eugene is using doing the right thing to cover his own backside a bit longer... but I suspect there's a lot of admiration for a child being braver than he is.  He always seemed to have a thing for bravery. :)</p><p>Side Note:  someone made a comment on <i>Time to Walk</i> about Shane's looks, and I'm passing on a visual for anyone curious about what I imagine for him in both this story and that one...  Google Jon Bernthal and the movie <i>Sweet Virginia</i>.  That's what Shane would look like by this time.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Grief and Misdirection</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Beth and Shane find the destruction left behind at Terminus, while Carol goes undercover at Grady.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Beth knows there's going to be a problem long before they reach their destination.  The blackened trickles of smoke on the horizon remind her of looking back toward the prison, when Daryl used the fire as a way to track how far they were away from danger.  A glance at Shane's expression shows he's equally concerned, and she spares time for a random thought of how odd it is that she's learned to read him so quickly.</p><p>"Gonna pull over and get off the tracks at the next crossover," he tells her.  </p><p>She nods.  "Gear up and go on foot?"</p><p>Sighing, he glances her way. "You don't have to go."</p><p>He's trying to spare her, she thinks, but she's tired of being protected and sheltered.  "I know.  But I think I need to."</p><p>The difference with Shane and most of the people she knows?  He doesn't argue her decision.  As she belts on her machete and checks that her knife is in place, he makes the turn and carefully backs the bus into a tangle of undergrowth.  It isn't completely hidden, but at least it isn't obvious.  They leave Muffin with the puppies, only taking Biscuit out as they move through the treeline toward their goal.</p><p>Reaching a chain link fence, it is unmistakable that something horrific happened at the self professed sanctuary… and recently so.  "Jesus," Beth mutters.  "It looks as bad as the prison."</p><p>"It does." Shane's got his backpack off, removing the sealed bag that holds their stink suits.  "Should be enough without fresh guts, with the fires messing with their senses."</p><p>As they dress in the coveralls, Beth slowly loses the acrid scent of smoke behind first the taint of walker and then the pervasive scent of menthol when Shane offers her the little tub.  </p><p>"Biscuit.  Stand guard.  Patrol." The dog fades back into the woods at Shane's command, making Beth arch a brow at the man.  He smiles, but the expression is grim. "He can't go with us, but I don't want him sitting in the open right here."</p><p>It makes sense, Beth supposes.  Even if Biscuit had a stink suit, animals don't turn, so she figures walkers might notice him.  They might not, but why use him as an experiment and risk it?</p><p>Assessing the fence, Shane finds a spot where it's been cut.  He points out the small footprints and the clear impression of a rifle's butt next to the fence.  "Someone watched from here before entering.  Fence is recently cut.  See the way the cut ends shine?"</p><p>She nods, carefully studying the signs he points out.  "Someone didn't trust their messages."</p><p>"We'll borrow their temporary gate.  I don't see any movement that isn't walkers, but they're also the thickest near the gates."</p><p>What follows is worse than the visit to the fallen prison, which Beth didn't expect.  But at the prison, the Governor only wanted them dead.  Terminus?  Their goals are so much more sinister and disgusting.</p><p>Dodging fire, rubble, and walkers, Beth recognizes the horrific room faster than Shane, thanks to a lifetime on a cattle farm.  But it's Shane that identifies the wrongness her brain wants to retreat from, gibbering in primitive recoil.  The makeshift abattoir here was never used to process livestock.</p><p>She must whimper or make some sound of distress, she thinks, because she finds herself hauled close to a firm chest.  The fact that she's got her cheek against his grime smeared suit doesn't register enough to overcome the idea that there are worse cannibals than the walking dead.  How much time they lose while she grips the material across his broad back trying to reel her mind back from the edge, she doesn't know.</p><p>"Maybe they didn't make it this far." Shane's voice finally breaks through her shock, and she nods mutely.</p><p>"Or not everyone did." Beth can't find it in her to be optimistic as she usually would be, not after the past week.  Especially not faced with this room and what hangs nearby.  She hugs Shane before stepping away and kneeling to gently close the eyes of the pale haired stranger lying next to the trough, his slit throat a silent testimony to the horror of this place.</p><p>Searching the buildings doesn't help her spirits, and with each step, a heaviness settles on her soul worse than the one that found her after her father was murdered.  "I didn't think there could be a worse room than the abattoir," she says, voice catching as they find a room full of things stolen from these monsters' victims.</p><p>Shane nods silently, holding the battered King's County Sheriff's Department hat in his hands.  If they needed proof of her missing people being here, it doesn't get any more distinctive than that hat.  But Beth looks anyway, placing each item she recognizes into Shane's backpack and identifying them, sometimes unnecessarily.</p><p>"Daryl's vest. Michonne's belt. Glenn and Maggie's wedding bands. My daddy's watch he gave Glenn.  Carol's watch.  Rick's watch." So many damned watches.  Ticking away despite their owners' time running its course. Grief lurks beyond the edges of a coldness she vaguely recognizes as shock.</p><p>Shane clears his throat, and his voice sounds raw and breaking when he speaks.  "Anything of the other kids?"</p><p>Sifting through the trophies collected off those who trusted this place, Beth isn't sure. "Nothing of Sophia's, but I don't think she had anything distinctive, and I wouldn't remember the others' things as well, like Sasha's or Tyreese's."</p><p>She isn't sure what is worse about that gap in knowledge.  It's possible that Sophia, Andre, and Judith didn't make it here.  They could be wandering still, two babies protected by a terrified teenager.  If that's the case, she prays one of the adults from the prison didn't follow those horrific signs and found them.  Sophia is brave and strong, but some tasks are impossible.</p><p>A noise from an alcove puts them both on alert.  Shane plants Carl's hat firmly on Beth's head before approaching the area, and she knows he's probably cursing himself for not clearing the room fully.  They were both thrown off when they spotted the hat now covering Beth's blond locks.</p><p>"Beth?  We got a live one."</p><p>It takes her a minute to realize he probably needs her to identify if the person is one of hers or not.  She's certainly given him enough unfamiliar names in her stories.  When she spots the woman in tattered, bloody clothing, she shakes her head.  "Not one of mine."</p><p>That doesn't necessarily make the woman one of the villains.  There were likely other victims than the one unknown man in the abattoir.  But this one doesn't have long to live, with a seeping bite wound evident on her neck where it meets the shoulder, and Beth figures other wounds lie beneath the torn and bloody clothing.  The stranger is already in the grips of the fever that will kill her before turning her.</p><p>"Don't let me turn," the woman begs.  Beth looks up, seeing a blood trail where the woman crawled to try to reach the trophy room from the alcove room.  A heavy metal door bears bloody handprints, obviously closed by the dying woman. Thinking about the pocket knives among the trophies, Beth guesses she was seeking her own way out.</p><p>"Who are you?" Shane asks.  There's something cool in his voice, a near absence of emotion.  He taps the knife at his belt in a seemingly casual fashion, drawing the woman's eyes to it.</p><p>The hope in those fevered eyes is frightening.  "Mary."</p><p>~*~*~*~*~</p><p>Getting them both back to the bus safely is something Shane attributes to years of law enforcement experience honed to absolute instinct by necessity in the apocalypse.  Beth didn't shut down completely, but she's on the razor's edge of shattering like glass.  Biscuit guards their every step, the pit bull on alert to their emotional turmoil.</p><p>Outside the bus, Beth seems to lose whatever strength propelled her.  She slumps against the vehicle, eyes nearly vacant.  With grief screaming in his own mind, he can't begin to imagine the multiple blows she's taken today.  </p><p>Gently, Shane strips her out of the protective suit and packs both away.  Wiping her exposed skin clean using a bucket of soapy water, he suggests she go inside and change, since her clothes retain the stench of smoke and walker.  Repeating the process with himself, he gets everything into the bus.</p><p>Inside, none of the dogs are visible, not even Muffin.  The curtain is pulled across the bed area, so Shane takes advantage of that to strip down and don fresh clothing himself.  When he bundles his dirty clothing up with Beth's to stash in the bathroom, he risks a look behind the curtain.  All he can see is a bit of blonde hair above the top of the blankets, and since she's got all the dogs huddled around her except Muffin standing guard, Shane decides to get them the hell away from this nightmare place.</p><p>Driving south, he doesn't stop until they're an hour away in King County.  Hiding the bus in an abandoned warehouse not far from his once home, Shane puts food out for the dogs and goes to check on Beth.  Touching her shoulder, he realizes she's still crying.  Deciding the hell with propriety, he sheds his boots and climbs into the bed with her.</p><p>Tugging her close makes her sob harder at first. She has that tiny rag doll he took from the prison clutched to her chest, and a glint of metal on her fingers shows him that she has four metal bands slipped on the fingers of her right hand.  Only the tight fist she has the hand curled into keeps the rings in place on her slim fingers.</p><p>With Beth against his chest, Shane finally gives into the grief he's held at bay and sobs uncontrollably himself. He wishes he never thought of Terminus, because searching aimlessly is better than this terrible, soul scarring knowledge they possess now.  Biscuit and the puppies whine and nuzzle at Beth and his arms around her.  Behind him, he feels Muffin creep up from the foot of the bed, pressing her furry body against his back.</p><p>The ghoul in human guise had confessed so readily with the implied promise that he would end her suffering in exchange for the truth.  There hadn't been any recognizable trophies for the children other than Carl, but he can never unhear the unholy delight of that thing describing how young girls, children, and babies are always slaughtered first, because the meat is so much sweeter and tender compared to boys after puberty and adults.</p><p>Shane wanted so badly for the woman to be insane, even after the evidence of the abattoir.  But the burn pit where the discarded bones still had unburned bones stripped mostly clean of flesh.  They're the right size for Sophia and the toddler boy.  He couldn't keep digging to find even smaller bones in the ash and scorched bones.  No one's mind would be capable of returning from the sight of their child like that, and a voice that sounds suspiciously like his late grandmother whispered he couldn't abandon Beth.</p><p>The only revenge he could manage was hog-tying that rabid bitch and leaving her to die of her fever and wounds in that room full of symbols of the dead.  For all time, unless someone else finds her undead body and puts it down, she'll face her guilt, unable to escape and feed, eternally the one thing she dreaded becoming the most.</p><p>~*~*~*~*~</p><p>Carol blinks groggily, letting the painkiller process through her system.  After the encounter with Noah, she knew exactly how to get inside the hospital turned prison camp to find Beth.  Daryl hadn't liked the idea at all, but he bent to her determination after a short argument.  Timing it just right to not end up with a serious injury from stepping in front of a car was tricky, but she did it.</p><p>Feigning unconsciousness is a skill she hasn't lost in the years since Ed died.  The two men masquerading as cops bundled her into the car with surprising gentleness.  At the hospital, she made it onto a gurney, with the bored doctor's cursory examination and treatment getting her labeled as concussed, dehydrated, and with only minor injuries.</p><p>Allowing the IV fluids to run their course gives her time to listen to the conversations around her.  It confirms Noah's tale of indentured servitude, which means his tales of the women being treated as sex slaves are probably legitimate as well.  The very idea makes her blood boil.  Finding Beth is even more important now.  If even one of these bastards laid a finger on the girl, Carol is going to feed him his balls.</p><p>Blinking, she deliberately groans, drawing the doctor's attention.  His faked concern makes her consider his own long term health as being at risk, but she bows her head meekly.  Time enough to reveal the Trojan Horse they've brought inside when she finds her missing young friend.</p><p>~*~*~*~*~</p><p>Daryl still hates this plan vehemently.  It feels so close to Merle's foolish self-sacrifice attempt that his skin is crawling with unease that grows with each mile away from the city.  At least these dumb bastards are on guard when he and Noah emerge from the trees at the church.</p><p>"We found the people that took Beth," he explains, unable to meet Sophia's anxious gaze.  "But they have Carol, too, now.  Her choice."</p><p>The others clamor for an explanation, one he hates to give.  Letting Carol go into a place of brutal men who abuse women is killing him slowly.  Stumbling through the words, he manages, and he's almost done when a small, delicate hand slips into his.</p><p>Looking down, he sees Sophia, and instead of the judgement he fears, there's only trust.  Straightening his slumped posture, Daryl finishes on a firmer note.  "We know where Beth was taken, and Carol's inside to help us.  Who is going back to Atlanta with me?"</p><p>"We all will."</p><p>Everyone turns to Carl, where the boy is holding his sister.  "While you were gone, the new people promised they would help us, and that included repaying Carol for rescuing them from Terminus.  So we all go."</p><p>No one argues with the fierce glares of the two teenagers, making Daryl wonder just what in the hell went down while he was gone.  But he isn't arguing his luck here.  "A'right.  Let's get on the way.  We'll come up with a plan on the road."</p><p>Sophia smiles at him, that glint of her mama's spirit showing even more these days.  For the first time since he lost Beth and then had to watch Carol put herself in harm's way, he thinks they might come out of this one intact.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The first of the mistaken for dead scenes occurs... Time will chug a bit slow until the Grady arc is done next chapter.  Then we'll start getting hops.</p><p>Until more time passes, no romance, as Beth has literally been with Shane for about 3 days at this point.  Neither are ready to see the other like that yet.</p><p>And in case the ring count seems off, Beth has both her parents' rings (Hershel's before Shane buried him, Annette's from visiting her father's room in the farmhouse), plus Glenn &amp; Maggie's.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Fulfilling Promises</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Beth and Shane make plans for the winter now that their search is over, while Carol infiltrates Grady with part of the plan she never told Daryl.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay folks, I actually slept on this chapter rather than post it yesterday, because of Carol's section.  She's putting herself directly in Gorman's path, and it should have all the warnings any Grady chapter should have about consent and sexual predators.  If you're uncomfortable with that type of scene, skip to the end notes after Shane's scene in the middle for the summary.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time Beth wakes, it's to a raging headache she knows is from crying too much.  That connection immediately reminds her of the grisly discoveries yesterday.  She's also much too warm considering how chilly it was the nights before.  It's dark in the bus's little bedroom, but her mind grasps that there's a well muscled arm around her.</p><p>She hasn't slept in the same bed as anyone since the ill-fated winter trek last year.  Even then, she always shared with Sophia and Carol, sometimes Lori, too, when things got really cold.  Compared to their sparse body heat, Shane is a furnace.</p><p>Wiggling enough to find the touch light, her fingertips cause the curtained bedroom area to be dimly lit. Shane doesn't stir, and exhaustion is still evident in his features even with so much hidden behind the thick beard.  There's a vague memory of him crying along with her.</p><p>Her bladder reminds her why she probably woke, so she eases from under his arm and crawls to the foot of the bed.  It's easier to climb over his legs without waking him.  All the puppies scramble down after her, but Biscuit and Muffin stay.  Her own urgent need taken care of, she peers out the windshield.</p><p>Just the windshield being uncovered told her they were somewhere secure.  If they weren't, Shane would have shut the screens.  He went over that routine with her quite clearly.  Dim windows show it's sometime past daylight, and they're indoors, somehow, a garage or warehouse.  </p><p>Feeling reasonably secure, she lets the puppies out to potty and disposes of the puppy pad they used sometime during the night.  Back inside, she checks on Shane before setting a kettle to boil.  They're both probably dehydrated as hell.  The whistle of the kettle does wake him, so he's sitting up when she offers him a mug of peppermint tea, sitting down to drink her own.</p><p>"Thank you." He cups the mug for a moment, not looking up.  "I hope it didn't bother you, me being in the bed."</p><p>Beth shakes her head before remembering he can't see it.  "It was fine.  Neither of us wanted to be alone last night." The metal rings slip and slide on her fingers, drawing his attention when he does look up.</p><p>"You need a chain for those," he says and surprises her by reaching to unfasten the heavy chain that suspends his 22 medallion against his chest.  Slipping the chain free of the golden 22, he passes it to her.  </p><p>Since even Maggie's ring is a loose fit on her largest finger, she strings them all on the chain and fastens it around her neck. Against her breastbone, she can feel the weight of four lost loved ones.  Her breath stutters, and tears fall again.  She finds herself drawn into a soothing embrace, and Shane’s warmth is as comforting now as it was when she first woke.</p><p>There aren’t enough tears left in her to cry for long, but she doesn't want to do anything beyond lie here with the one living person she has left.  It doesn't take long before she's asleep again.</p><p>The second time Beth awakes, she's completely alone in the bed.  There's a bottle of water and one of the coconut ration bars she likes best tucked next to her, and the bus is no longer indoors.  Blinking at the bright sunlight, she munches the ration bar and finishes off the water bottle before venturing to see where she is.</p><p>In the distance, she can see water, and she almost thinks Shane took them back to the lake house until she realizes the house is different.  It’s bigger than the boat house, and much, much smaller than the main house that was crushed under the fallen oak.  While nature is overgrowing things here, it's not as accomplished yet.  The water is moving at a fair pace, so it's a river and not a lake.</p><p>Outside in a grassy area, Shane's throwing a tennis ball for Biscuit.  It seems like it's the first time she hasn't seen him working in some capacity while awake. Sitting in the driver's seat, she watches for a few minutes as the puppies lay flopped around Muffin at his feet. She tries to imagine Judith in this scene, playing with her father and the dogs, and oh God, it hurts to know she's never going to see the baby ever again.  Maybe even more than her sister or father or the others now torn from her forever.</p><p>Biting back a sound of distress, she takes a deep breath to steady herself and opens the doors to step outside in the chill air.  October is finally giving up any claim to summer temperatures, it seems.  "Where are we?" she asks Shane once she's close enough not to yell.</p><p>He pauses in throwing the ball, looking as haggard as she feels.  "My old place in King County."</p><p>That lets curiosity push away grief, at least for the moment.  The house is a small one, not a lot bigger than the boat house they stayed in.  But it's well tended, aside from overgrown grass and shrubbery.  Give it time, and it will probably fall into decay, but it was maintained enough before the outbreak to not look years abandoned yet.</p><p>"Are we staying here?" she asks.  There's a fence, although not the sturdy ones of the lake houses.  It's meant more to keep dogs in and set a boundary line, she thinks.</p><p>Shane shakes his head.  "Not secure enough.  I left some supplies here we could use, when I came through last year on my way south."</p><p>That reminds her of him saying he spent the winter at the beach.  Rubbing her arms in the morning's chill, she thinks that sounds like a plan good enough ro repeat.  Warmth and distance from the reality they'll never reunite with their families.  "Can we go to the beach?"</p><p>He turns and looks at her, where she stands with her arms crossed for warmth.  "Yeah.  Maybe that's the best idea.  I can teach you to sail."</p><p>"Really?" She's always loved the idea of sailing, but it's an expensive and frivolous hobby, so the closest she's come was going on a riverboat cruise with her parents last summer at Savannah.</p><p>"Sure, why not?  Boat's safer anyway." Shane takes a deep breath and motions to the house.  "Might as well load up what's there that we might need."</p><p>With the sense that Shane really doesn’t want to go inside the house, Beth follows him anyway.</p><p>~*~*~*~*~</p><p>Shane isn’t entirely sure why instinct led him back to King County yesterday.  The boat house was closer to Terminus, but perhaps too close in his grief garbled mind.  He wasn’t lying when he said there were supplies here.  Originally, he had intended to stay in his old house after he left the farm, but even his own home had too many memories of all things Grimes for his mind to settle.</p><p>“When I left last year, I only took what I could carry,” he tells Beth when she looks around the living room and looks a little surprised at the fact that the dining area is completely covered in supplies.  There’s a table and chairs in there somewhere, his grandmother’s antique passed down in her family from a European ancestor Jean Walsh probably remembered, but he doesn’t.</p><p>“I’m guessing you were planning to stay.”</p><p>“I thought about it.  It was my grandmother’s house.”  He’d inherited it when Jean died just months after he graduated from college.  While he carefully packed away a lot of her things, like that spoon collection - one from every single state - and the massive collection of thimbles, of all things, he didn’t change much else.  It makes for an odd place for a bachelor, he knows, but then again, he never brought women back here.  Not to Jean’s home.</p><p>Beth isn’t as interested in the supplies as in a bookshelf in the living room, and it doesn’t surprise him that a female could spot family albums that quickly.  He thinks maybe it’s an instinct they’re born with.  She studies the framed photos that he’s added to the shelves in front of books and albums, all candid ones added since Jean’s death.  The older ones are hung properly on the walls, but he never rearranged the massive family history used in lieu of decorations.  Even his unlamented father’s boyhood pictures are still where they hung when Jean was still alive.</p><p>When she picks one up, he steps close to see it’s one from one of the department softball games against the local fire department.  “You all look so young,” Beth says softly.</p><p>“Twenty-five, I think.  Me and Rick.”  His voice catches, and he has to clear his throat.  “Lori was a few years younger, maybe twenty-one or two then.  Carl…” Tapping the glass beside the boy, he manages a smile.  “Three.  Those stars and stripes cowboy boots were something I got him for Christmas that year.  He wore them until they hurt his feet.  Cried endlessly when his mama laid down the law that they were too small.”</p><p>“Poor baby.  I remember having a pair of pink cowboy boots I was in love with, too.  Think I was a few years older.”  She glances up at him with a soft smile on her face.  “Did you get him another pair?”</p><p>“Of course.  ‘Bout made his parents pull their hair out, because they thought they were garish, but I told them at least it wasn’t light up shoes.”  It’s interesting how a girl who’s known him all of three days seems to clue in faster than people who knew him for years.  Then again, he supposes Beth’s never seen enough of his old world self to have any preconceived notions about him.  She certainly doesn’t seem offended that he was Judith’s father.</p><p>Pushing away the surge of grief and anger that the baby’s loss inspires, he points out other photos, giving her more tales about Carl.  The boy was her friend, and he deserves to be remembered.  When he reaches the last one, Beth is still holding the first photo and blinking away tears, but smiling at him even more sweetly than she started out doing.</p><p>“We should take these with us,” she says.  “In case we don’t come back this way again.”</p><p>The quiet assumption that she’ll stay with him is both comforting and frightening.  Shane hasn’t been responsible for anyone other than himself and the dogs in so long that he’s a little terrified of the idea that Beth is now his to look after.  At the same time, who else does the girl have?  Her entire family is gone, just like his, and he doesn’t know of any community he considers safe enough to leave a teenage girl with no one as a guardian.  The idea of not being alone except for the dogs?  He’s just selfish enough to like that idea, damn him.</p><p>“There’s smaller prints in that photo box on the bottom shelf,” he tells her, not letting on to any of his emotional conflict about her easy declaration of companionship.  “These are enlargements from the originals.”</p><p>When she sets the frame down carefully and looks for the box, Shane goes to check through the supplies.  There’s no way they can take most of them on the bus itself, but it does have a trailer hitch.  They can always nab a cargo trailer from somewhere around and load everything up.  He doesn’t like the lessened maneuverability a trailer adds for road travel in general, but there’s plenty of room on the boat he used last winter for this many supplies.  </p><p>With this?  They could stay on the water for months with the watermaker on most boats meant for venturing out into the ocean.  He could probably set up a rainwater collection system, too, to spare that for bathing purposes.  Best part is, Beth’s not at risk while they collect supplies.  She’s obviously willing to learn anything he can teach her, and he intends to keep doing so, but why take risks they don’t need to?</p><p>Being lost in thought means he’s startled as hell when Beth’s small hand lands on his bicep.  She apologizes with a small smile, holding the whole box of loose photos.  “I thought maybe we should just take the whole box.”</p><p>“Alright.”  While he doesn’t think he’ll spend much time looking at the photos, not until he feels less like throwing up from the morass of grief settled in his gut, but he’s lost people before.  He knows eventually, he will want those reminders.  His own smile is meant to reassure her and seems to do the job.  “How about we go find a trailer to load this into?  I’ve got a plan to propose for how we spend the winter months.”</p><p>The shadows of grief retreat from her features at the idea of planning for something of a future, so he doesn’t mind the way she cradles that box all the way back to the bus and stores it into the bag that has all the other mementos she’s been collecting.  All they have now is each other, and he promises the daughter he’ll never meet that he’ll look after the girl who looked after her when he didn’t.</p><p>~*~*~*~*~</p><p>Carol’s injuries are mild enough that she falls right into the work routine the morning after her arrival.  The ‘interview’ with the bitch in charge of the place is a short one, with Lerner dismissing her like most professional women do.  A former housewife just isn’t worth her notice.  It’s also mostly beneath the notice of the problem cops mentioned by Noah.</p><p>She isn’t young enough or pretty enough for that type of man, not at first glance.  But she didn’t share that part of her plan with Daryl, because he would have had a shit fit about her planning on getting close to the lead pervert himself.  Half the prison thought they were a couple, an idea neither ever discouraged.  It kept the young women from Woodbury from doing more than panting after Daryl from afar, and she’s not met a man yet that she thinks is worth the bother of paying attention to.  She has her little family within the larger family that Rick lays claim to.</p><p>Men like this are dangerous enough living in the same world as Sophia and Beth.  Carl, too, because she’s not stupid enough to think they would never prey on boys, too, just because they didn’t bother Noah.  And her Beth is somewhere here, in the same building as those monsters.  The girl may be a legal adult, not even a teenager anymore, but she’s Carol’s the same way Carl is.  She takes her promises to their dead parents seriously.</p><p>“Hey, housekeeper!” </p><p>Reminding herself to stay meek and unthreatening, Carol turns, plastering a simple and pleasant expression across her features that was a second nature when Ed was cranky but not yet drunk or violent.  “Can I help you?”</p><p>The name on his uniform identifies the man as Gorman himself, and she memorizes the look of him.  He’s freshly showered, obviously getting ready for his duty shift, and still tightening the utility belt that holds his gun and other cop paraphernalia.   No one had specified where she had to start cleaning, so she started on the corridor the officers all live on after hearing from one of the other wards that Gorman was off duty.</p><p>“Yeah, you can.”  His gaze sweeps over her dismissively for the most part.  “Bedroom needs thorough cleaning.  Fresh sheets, especially.”</p><p>“No problem. I’ll get right to it so it’s ready when you come home.”</p><p>Apparently he likes her easy willingness, because he actually holds the door for her to push her cart into the room.  Making her brush against his larger form is such an obvious intimidation tactic and test that she isn’t surprised when he stops her so he can step even closer.  Maybe Noah thinks the man prefers young women, but Carol knows exactly what this man’s type is.</p><p>
  <i>Submissive.</i>
</p><p>Youth may make that easier, but she’s got fifteen years of practice in being exactly the kind of prey a man like this likes.  When he deliberately presses himself against her hip, she looks down to hide that she isn’t blushing like she ought to as one of his hands slips under the loose scrub top she’s wearing.  They hadn’t issued her a bra with the scrubs, and hers had been cut away to treat her dislocated shoulder in a move that makes her think that doctor is more stupid than she initially estimated.</p><p>So this asshole now has a firm grip on her left breast.  It’s not a painful one, more as if he’s assessing her worth as he massages it lightly.  Fluttering her lashes, she peeks up at him and catches the smirk that spreads over his features.  He leans in, breath tickling her ear as he speaks softly.  “Not as old as you look, are you?”</p><p>Swallowing slowly, she shakes her head as he continues to explore under her top.  “Starting going gray in college.  Dye just wasn’t a priority out there.”</p><p>“Maybe we could do something about that, if you’re sweet enough to me.”  His free hand slides through her short locks.  “What color was it?”</p><p>Naturally, her hair had been a brown sort of in between Sophia’s honey blonde and a true brown, but Ed always made her color it a rich auburn back when he could be bothered to care about her looks.  Knowing the lure that shade has for many men, she smiles shyly.  “Auburn.”</p><p>“Like Isla Fisher.  Nice.”  His hand finally drops away from her chest.  “Do a good job for me, and we’ll see about a present, alright?”</p><p>Nodding and keeping her expression perfectly grateful, she offers the asshole a sweet smile.  “I will.”  </p><p>Content with her behavior and agreement, Gorman strides off without a backward glance.  Carol finishes pushing the cart into his room and lets the old ghost of herself fall away like the dirty cloak it is and straightens to her full height.  She has at least eight hours before the man will be back, because he does actually take his duties seriously in order not to risk Lerner yanking his ‘special privileges’.</p><p>The room is a large one, not originally a patient’s room like the wards are bunked in.  The officers have converted work spaces into larger quarters, with actual beds.  It’s more apartment than spartan hospital room.  Based on the stink of sex in the place, Gorman’s activities off duty were very clear.  Reminding herself that the tired and defeated woman she ate breakfast in said his current favorite is a young woman named Joan, she hopes he doesn’t cross paths with Beth before Carol finds her.  </p><p>Her new breakfast friend did confirm Noah’s information that there was a new blonde here, but she’s been working with Bob Lamson, a choice job for any of the women.  Lamson may live among the dirty cops without stopping them, but personally, the ward assigned to him really is just his housekeeper.  He’s also particularly protective of anyone who directly works for him.  No one will touch the girl as long as she works for him.</p><p>The other woman, who gave her name as Marcia, sighed quietly at that.  “It’s a spartan life, working for one of the good officers.  Sometimes, they see the extra privileges the girls that go to Gorman’s men get.  It’s a big temptation, thinking sex isn’t such a bad exchange for a few extra luxuries.”  It sounded like Marcia spoke from experience, but Carol didn’t dig deeper.  She had what she needed, and since Gorman’s days are numbered, she’s just got to be careful, since he’s probably far smarter than Ed ever was.</p><p>Carol told Daryl to give her three days to investigate before infiltrating the hospital somehow, leaving that part of the plan to him and the others.  Beth isn’t the only person who needs rescuing here, and she vowed to never leave women in the situation she spent so many years in.  </p><p>It’s time to get to work.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>For those who skipped part three, Carol sets herself up to seduce Gorman to get close enough to take down the dirty cops and spare the wards.  It isn't a plan she shared with Daryl, so there will probably be some consequences later, even though they aren't a couple here, nor intended to become one.  He still isn't going to like her doing something like this.</p><p>This was supposed to end the Grady arc, in my original outline, but instead, there will be at least one more chapter.  Maybe two, since I figure y'all don't want a chapter entirely devoid of Shane and Beth's continuing adventure... especially for her finally convincing him she's not sixteen (although not in the light of romance yet, just proving she's not a "kid").  o.O</p><p>If you want a preview for our little duo's winter plans, try https:// www. gonewiththewynns .com/ curiosity-sailboat (remove spaces).  I'm honestly torn on whether they'll stay on the boat or return to the turtle bus for the eventual Virginia trip.  Since GPS satellites would run for probably a decade after humans stopped maintaining them (and remain fairly accurate at this stage), they will travel pretty far at sea.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Wherever You Want to Go</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Shane and Beth prepare for a winter at sea, while Carol cleans house at Grady.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Carol's section may be too graphic, and has references that would be dubcon.  Summary at the end if you want to skip it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Traveling south took three days, partly because Beth wants more time training to defend herself, and Shane doesn’t seem to disagree with the need.  While he’s kept their route deliberately away from any large town, in the small ones, they stop and clear at least one building.  Beth learned over the past year and a half to never think they have enough supplies, and some, like medical supplies, are trickier than others.  Just because they’re planning to spend a lot of their time on a boat, doesn’t mean they can’t get hurt or sick.</p><p>Even today, they aren’t actually at the gulf coast yet.  The town Shane led them to is a river port, just a tiny place that had maybe three hundred residents before the outbreak.  It lies in the fork of two rivers that converge and lead to a bay and then the Gulf of Mexico.  There aren’t any walkers here, but that’s due to Shane’s prior visit clearing them out.  With the town surrounded by river and wildlife management areas, there just isn’t much of a population for walkers to wander back in.</p><p>When they pull up at the marina where Shane anchored the boat, Beth is surprised to see so many small craft still bobbing in the water in their slips.  “It looks like any pending weekend,” she says softly.</p><p>Shane nods as he parks the bus close to one of the docks, this one not a covered one like the ones where most of the boats are.  “I imagine some of the larger boats probably went out to sea when the outbreak started, either with their owners or someone appropriating one like I did.”</p><p>He points toward the only large vessel docked in the area, and Beth’s eyes widen.  “That’s what you were sailing?”</p><p>“Yeah.  Needed to be something big enough for the open sea, but not too big for one person to handle.  She’s about the max size for a single sailor though, at least one like me that was having to relearn a lot of skills.”</p><p>“What’s her name?” Beth always found the names on boats fascinating, but most of that was from reading books as a kid.</p><p>“Iris.”  Shane opens the bus door and ushers the dogs out.  They gear up like any other excursion, just in case, locking the bus behind them.  The dogs seem to understand they can roam a bit and don’t instantly follow.</p><p>Walking along the floating dock reminds Beth of just how different this will be to even the bus’s ability to stay mobile.  Because he’s familiar with the boat, Shane steps on, checking the lock and looking relieved it doesn’t seem to be tampered with.  He ducks inside the cabin, returning quickly to look at Beth still on the dock. </p><p>“C’mon.  You can check out the cabin while I check to make sure none of the exterior hatches or compartments have been tampered with.”  He holds out a hand, helping her step down from the dock onto one of the pair of little built in ladder scoops on the back of the boat that she’s sure has some special name.</p><p>She steps up onto a sort of outdoor dining area and eyes the captain’s seat.  “Does it have engines, too?”</p><p>“Yeah.  Get out somewhere with no wind, or if you need to outrun a storm, and those come in really handy.”</p><p>“What about fuel?  I remember they were having more and more trouble keeping good fuel, even diesel.”</p><p>“Boat has a fuel polishing system that can help keep the water and microbes out.  Someone paid a pretty penny for that to be installed, and it’s worth it.  Before we add any extra fuel, we’ll test it.  Bad diesel is pretty obvious.  But most marinas have the off road type, and they’re really careful to treat it because it’s a huge income loss if they don’t.  Places with the underground tanks, if we’re careful?  Stuff could last five years.”</p><p>Shane smiles at her reassuringly.  “Even without the engines, we’d still have the sails.  That’s why a sailboat versus just one of those big motorized only yachts.”</p><p>Nodding, Beth leaves her machete on the outdoor table, which is surrounded by nice cushions and steps through the door into the quaint little room.  It reminds her of the bus, quite a bit.  There’s another table like the one outside, with a U-shaped galley that she explores, finding the dish drying rack under a panel.  The sink has three separate faucets, which she figures she’ll have to ask Shane about, but she doesn’t test any of them in case there’s some larger system Shane has to do something with first.</p><p>The two-burner propane stove is like the bus, with a covering for the burners to make them part of the counter when not in use, and there’s a really nice sized fridge she hopes works.  Stretching above the sink, she reaches to fiddle with the little window hatch, grinning when it swings open.  She can see Shane outside, at the front of the boat, checking hatches like he said.</p><p>“Everything okay so far?” she asks, wondering just how many hatches there are.  This boat has more hidey holes than the bus, for sure.</p><p>He looks up and smiles at her from where he’s reaching into one compartment.  "Yeah.  Nothing seems touched." Pulling a large boot tray with a piece of astroturf in it, his smile widens to a grin. "Puppy potty?"</p><p>"Um, really?" Beth hasn't even considered the dogs needing to pee or poop on board.</p><p>"Biscuit used it, so hopefully the rest will.  Everything fastens to a line, and you toss the tray and turf over and let the water wash it clean." Shane sets it on the deck, fastening the line somewhere she can't see. “Gonna start testing out the equipment, if you hear any noise."</p><p>Beth watches him walk around the side of the boat that the helm is on before continuing down into the space below deck.  In both directions on the galley's side of the boat are small cabins, each with a tiny wet bathroom like the bus has, where the sink's faucet doubles as a shower wand. The cabin toward the front of the boat seems to be the one Shane used, since there's a few items of clothing in his size left in the tiny closet.  The other cabin has an assortment of supplies in neatly labeled plastic bins with lids.</p><p>One of the deck hatches acts as an access and skylight, she thinks, climbing up on the bed to unlatch it.  Popping it open, she feels a breeze off the river that makes her understand the appeal.  Figuring the interior needs to air out a little, she leaves it open and opens the other windows, too.</p><p>Crossing to the other side of the boat, she finds this must be the captain's cabin.  The bed is in a cabin under the helm, with a room in between connecting to a much larger bathroom.  This one has an actual shower, and behind a panel, a washer/dryer combo machine.  The connecting room appears to be both closet space and tiny office.  </p><p>Beth pauses in front of the long mirror on the closet door, eyeing the rings on the chain around her neck.  It's weird, seeing those and not her mother's cross, but they're more of a comfort somehow, because it represents much more of her family.  She wishes she knew where her mother's necklace went, but it was lost somewhere in the horrible night after she was kidnapped.  It could be anywhere in Atlanta, from the floorboard of that car to the scrambled path she ran through the city.  Her mother will forgive her for losing it.</p><p>Her assumption that Shane wasn't using this cabin is confirmed by the supplies also left behind in the room.  Since he walked when he left the Iris here, she guesses this is what was leftover from his time aboard.  Using one of the cabins for storage would be really nice, because they really have a decent stockpile.</p><p>As Beth hears the boat's engines start up, she heads back up to join Shane, watching curiously.  "Everything good?"</p><p>"So far.  Fuel seems to be clear.  Did you like any of the cabins?" Apparently, he's just listening to the engines because he turns to look at her with that intense focus he uses almost anytime he asks her opinion.</p><p>"I like the bathroom on this side.  Doesn't it have another name on a boat, though?"</p><p>"The head, but there's no snobby sailors around to fuss if you want to call it a bathroom.  Why don't you take that cabin then?  We can use the third for storage, and I need to show you the hidey holes, like the one in the shower you like."</p><p>A yip from the dock announces all three puppies have grown bored of exploring and now object to being separated from Beth.  "Do you think it's safe for them to come on board?  Those lifejackets you found are still on the bus."</p><p>Shane nods.  "Long as we aren't underway, we can fish them back out of the water pretty easily."</p><p>Bringing them on board means supervising the romping trio, but Shane seems amused rather than irritated that she's playing with them.  The trampoline at the front of the boat fascinates all three, and Beth's a fan herself once she stretches out on it.  Several nights of sleep disrupted by nightmares catches up to her, and she dozes off.</p><p>~*~*~*~</p><p>Shane isn't surprised when he finds Beth snoozing amidst a pile of also napping puppies.  He'd raised the sails as part of checking over the boat, so she's actually shaded.  Leaving them be, he looks for Biscuit and Muffin, finding them both still exploring.  The big male loves sailing, so he hopes they're equally lucky with Muffin.  The pups will adapt, he thinks.</p><p>Food concerns him more for the dogs than himself and Beth, because the dry kibble he loaded on board last year is no longer an option.  They do have a lot of canned dog food, and he has no intention of taking the Iris out into the open sea for so long they can't get to land for hunting.  Maybe his fishing luck will hold, too.</p><p>Since Beth appears to like the captain's cabin, he goes below deck to shift all the leftover supplies out of her way.  They'll need to be careful of weight distribution, but everything should be fine.  They'll stay tonight at dock and let the puppies and Muffin adjust a little.  With that in mind, he starts making trips from the bus with a dolly, getting a large amount of supplies down to the dock where the boat is moored before Beth wakes.</p><p>She's a little sheepish about her two hour nap, but he's glad of it.  The nightmares that have plagued her worry him a little about sleeping on the other side of the boat.  Since the night they shared the bed the first time, he's left his spot in the table bed two out of three nights to calm her down.  He'll just have to wait and see, but just offering to share a cabin certainly isn't appropriate.</p><p>"You wanna stand on the boat while I pass stuff over?" he asks.  She agrees happily, so over the next two hours, they get supplies stacked haphazardly on the boat to be sorted later.  Since both the interior saloon table and the outside table are covered with supplies, they take a break to feed the dogs and snag MREs for their own lunch.</p><p>"One thing we'll need to get is more plastic storage boxes with lids, since we have more supplies now due to the dogs than I had just for me.  It keeps them from getting damaged if water gets inside anywhere, and sea air is corrosive to the cans.  Marina store probably has some, since I doubt folks made a run on those."</p><p>She laughs softly. "So the labels and bins aren't you just being a neat freak."</p><p>That makes him laugh as well.  "Nah.  Although it is a habit I've trained myself into.  We need to make sure we don't put a bunch of heavy items on the bed in that supply cabin.  Engine access is under the beds in the stern cabins."</p><p>"Is that why you chose the other cabin?  Are the engines loud?" Beth looks worried.</p><p>"Most of the time, you wouldn't sleep while the engines are running, but they aren't.  I just liked the hatch in the forward cabin." Thinking on his original idea to stay just one night in port, he revises. "We'll take a few days to sort everything and see what gaps we have.  Then we'll do a little puttering in the rivers before we hit open water.  That okay?"</p><p>Beth nods easily, finishing her food. "That should help the dogs adjust, right?"</p><p>"It should.  I'm going to check the marina store to see if I can find any lifeline netting.  I used a tether for Biscuit before, but we would end up in a mess of tangled lines.  The netting isn't perfect either, but the more measures to keep the little butterballs out of the water, the better."</p><p>Looking toward the pups playing under the saloon table, Beth nods. "We aren't in any rush, right? Where will we go once we do leave?"</p><p>Shane just smiles and points to a laminated atlas he brought out of the little office.  "Wherever you want to go."</p><p>~*~*~*~</p><p>Carol gets out of the bed, slips back into her discarded scrubs, and steps to the open bathroom door.  Gorman is hunched naked over the toilet, vomiting violently.  It had taken a little longer than expected for the poison and drugs she laced into his food to take hold, but the results are rather spectacular.  </p><p>The other two corrupt male cops got off a little easier.  They'll just never wake.  But Gorman, and by extension Dawn Lerner?  Both deserve to suffer.</p><p>"What did you do to me?" he rasps out, and Carol crouches down to smile grimly at him.  </p><p>"Oh, just a little extra seasoning to your supper.  Edwards is pretty careless with his medication cabinet key." Carol's training with Hershel paid off there, and she's pretty sure that the combination Gorman was given wouldn't respond to anything Edwards could do. Not that the weasel of a doctor would intervene.  He's a coward, and once Lerner goes down, he'll bow to whoever assumes leadership.</p><p>Using his own handcuffs, she cuffs his arms around the toilet pipe.  It's doubtful he could yank the industrial plumbing loose, not as weak as he's getting, but she wants him to suffer for what he's caused the women here.  If he hasn't died and turned by the time she's back, she'll finish off him then.</p><p>Checking in on his two partners in crime reveals both men are sleeping soundly.  They aren't responsive, but the tranquilizer dose was almost enough to be immediately fatal anyway.  Ending Karen and David's suffering had been a stupid gamble, more of a mercy killing than really aiming to prevent anything.  But it still felt wrong.</p><p>Putting a scalpel blade into these men's brains is easy compared to that.  She maneuvers them one at a time into a wheelchair, taking them to the elevator shaft and tipping the bodies inside.  As she turns from watching where O'Donnell's body disappeared to see Joan staring at her, wide eyed.</p><p>"You killed them?" she asks Carol, sounding much younger than she is.  The other woman had been planning an escape like Noah's, but Carol convinced her to wait.  She hadn't believed that Carol could distract Gorman from her until the first time the man sent her away as Carol slipped to her knees in front of him.</p><p>"Alvarado and O'Donnell.  Gorman's suffering a bit."</p><p>Joan's expression firms up.  "Good.  What about Dawn?"</p><p>"I need to signal my people that they can come in." She suspects that the other officers will overlook what she did to the men, but they may not agree that Dawn is more guilty than any of the three for allowing it.</p><p>"I can do that.  O'Donnell was supposed to be on duty near the roof access point.  What do I do?"</p><p>Carol passes her a flashlight after demonstrating the signal she arranged with Daryl.  They'll come to a certain door leading to the parking garage, and it's already understaffed by Alvarado's mysterious illness earlier.  Tanaka is a pushover, so he'll be easy to distract on his own, especially by Joan, who he makes puppy eyes at all the time.</p><p>Going back to Gorman, Carol stares at the man, now splattered with his own vomit but alive.  He tries to scramble away from her as she shows him the bloody scalpel.  "Traitorous bitch," he mutters.</p><p>She just gives him another smile, avoiding the weak kick to catch his leg and pin the other.  It leaves him twisted against the toilet, legs spread.  It's a fitting position, she thinks, even as she slashes the scalpel into the femoral artery.  Blood spreads beneath him, pooling around him on the once pristine white tile floor.</p><p>Holding his gaze until the life fades makes up for all the ways she distracted him over the past few days, using his own proclivities against him.  He might have been smarter than Ed, but just like she advised Andrea about the Governor, men are extremely stupid once they're fucking a woman.  If the blonde had just had the balls to kill her own monster, so many lives would have been saved.</p><p>But Carol's been sloppy herself.  She didn't find Lamson's housekeeper fast enough, and the girl escaped.  When Lamson and Shepherd returned empty handed with sickened expressions, she hadn't needed their words to confirm the girl ran into walkers.  The sergeant had been kind when Carol approached him later, looking mournful as he confirmed the girl was a singer and letting Carol search the collection of seized personal belongings to see if she could find anything that belonged to Beth.  Finding the antique cross on the leather cord nearly gutted Carol, even more than watching Hershel die.</p><p>Beth never took that necklace off, and it's distinctive, passed down at least two generations in her mother's family.  The chain broke during the winter traveling, and Daryl replaced it with the sturdier leather cord.  Retrieving it from its hiding spot sewn inside her shirt, Carol wraps the cord around her wrist like a bracelet even as she watches Gorman change from still and dead to snapping and angry undead.</p><p>Running to Dawn is the easiest acting she's ever done, and the woman's stupidly reckless to not consider an old housewife a threat.  The lieutenant charges into Gorman's bathroom, only becoming wary when she sees the handcuffs.  Shoving her into the range of those eager teeth is easy, especially when the cop cracks her head on the toilet, stunning her.</p><p>Gorman is as vicious in death as life, and hauling the half conscious woman into range gives Carol a dark thrill.  The woman who allowed the culture that led to her Beth dying dies the same way as the girl Carol failed to protect.  Putting them both down permanently, she uncuffs Gorman and goes to find her people and finish what she started here.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If you skipped Carol's section, she killed each of the dirty cops, including Dawn, but mistakenly believes that Beth died in an escape attempt.</p><p>Time jumps will start next chapter...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Family by Choice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Shane finally figures out Beth's age, while Beth has an unexpected gift for him.  Sophia and Maggie clash over the sole heirloom Beth left behind.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As much work as having five dogs on a sailboat is, Beth wishes they'd had dogs with them last winter on the road.  The two adult dogs are infinitely more sensitive to the sound and scent of walkers nearby.  They spent the first week on the boat navigating the rivers and the mouth of the bay, letting Beth learn the basics of sailing.  The second week, they navigated to the nearest large Gulfside marina, gathering items from an extensive list Shane has.</p><p>Beth spent a chunk of their time on shore practicing with a recurve bow.  It's easy enough to set up a target while Muffin stands guard.  Shane warned her the bow is just to learn on, not a sufficient draw weight for hunting.  It makes her both frustrated and determined as she gets better with the bow. She wasted too much time at the prison not learning enough to survive outside walls.  It isn't a mistake she'll make again.</p><p>Today, though, Shane declared they're done with the mechanical and other backup supplies for the boat itself, so they're anchored offshore.  Beth estimates they have two months supply of food and necessities for them and the dogs.  It's amazing how many nooks and crannies the boat has.</p><p>Sitting at the galley table, Beth works on the meal planner Shane set up.  Even at their best at the prison, she doesn't think nutrition was the primary factor, but the ex-deputy is insistent on being careful since they also have to account for supplies while at sea. He's set up two weeks and seemed content to continue, but it's a project she can help with easily, so she is.</p><p>"Alright, you damn little ankle biters, inside." Shane's voice at the door makes Beth look up and smile.  He'd taken all the dogs out in the fading sunlight for a potty break.  The pups still can't go all night, but they've adapted well to using a puppy pad in the bathroom in the unused cabin when they can't get to their fake patch of grass on the bow.</p><p>Each puppy has their tiny life jacket removed and hung on overhead hooks, while the adults wait their turn outside the door.  Jelly bounds over to Beth, begging to be lifted up.  She curls up on the cushion beside her and promptly falls asleep.  Her brothers disappear, but squeaking from Shane's cabin tells her they've gone for their toy basket.</p><p>Shane eyes the tumbler in front of her before cutting his gaze to the collection of bottles she's collected for the little built-in bar in the galley.  "Experimenting tonight?"</p><p>He latches the exterior door after hanging up the older dogs' life jackets, too, crossing to the sink to begin tackling the supper dishes.  At least she knows what the extra faucet at the sink is for now that they're anchored offshore enough to have adequate seawater.  She hears the whir of the electric pump bringing salt water in to wash the dishes.  They'll be rinsed in freshwater from the regular faucet.</p><p>That's another novelty of the past weeks.  At the prison, the kitchen duties rarely went to any of the males, even Carl.  Shane seems content with splitting duties between cooking and dishes without even discussing it. She honestly suspects if she hadn't known how to cook, he would simply have just let her be lazy.</p><p>"I don't think I quite understand the allure," she says, eyeing the tumbler.  The rum is better than the whiskey, and both are better than the moonshine, but it still isn't fun to drink.  </p><p>"No one drinks alcohol for the taste, except maybe wine drinkers.  Why do you think bars always dress it up into things like margaritas and cosmopolitans?" </p><p>Shane sounds amused as hell, so Beth plunks the tumbler onto the counter to offer it to him.  "You can have it."</p><p>He eyes it for a minute before concentrating on his dishes.  "Worst thing I ever did in my life involved alcohol.  I don't drink anymore."</p><p>Beth retrieves the tumbler and studies the amber liquid for a moment before leaning over the counter to pour it down the rinse sink.  "The rest can be used for cooking.  Carol made some really good rum balls."</p><p>"Now that is a tasty use of liquor.  So's using bourbon for sauces and glazes.  We'll use it up." Shane switches to rinsing, adding the tumbler to his dishes. "Not a good habit to pick up at your age, so I'm inclined to be happy you don't like it."</p><p>Beth smiles, suddenly curious, because in the nearly three weeks she's traveled with Shane, there have been several small clues that he has no idea how old she is.  "I'm only a year below the old world drinking age for the U.S.  Plenty of other places allowed it at eighteen."</p><p>Her hunch is proved correct when the man stops and turns to look at her, astonished.  "You're twenty? Jesus.  Thought you were about Carl's age.  Maybe sixteen at the most."</p><p>Laughing, she nods.  "Turned twenty on the first of October.  I graduated high school right before the world went to hell. Why did you think I was younger?" </p><p>She remembers Shane from the farm, but it's a distant sort of thing.  He was always so intense and angry up until the day he disappeared that they never actually spoke that she recalls.  It took her awhile to understand why everyone was so relieved when he simply walked away, and overhearing a fight between Lori and Rick about the baby filled in a lot of blanks.</p><p>"Guess it was the way your family behaved, like you needed looking after." He finishes the dishes and dries his hands before setting the kettle to boil and measuring instant coffee into his mug.</p><p>"I will never understand how you can drink coffee now and not be up all night." It's made her curious, because almost every night, it's the same ritual, if things are calm.  Shane and the kettle, serving himself a heavily sweetened mug of coffee.</p><p>Shane just chuckles and takes a seat at the far end of the angled bench for the table with his mug.  "ADHD does wonders for changing the effects of caffeine.  Luckily, there's a wealth of crappy and not so crappy instant coffee with a long shelf life."</p><p>"Tea might taste better." He drinks tea, when she uses packets of herbal tea like peppermint.  But she's never seen him with the other stuff that would have caffeine. Neither of them want to spare refrigerator space for iced tea, but she's got several varieties that were sealed up properly.</p><p>"Maybe I'll give it a try." He takes a big drink and quirks a small smile her way.  "You ready to head south tomorrow?"</p><p>Beth nods, closing the menu planner.  "I'm still amazed you sailed to the Bahamas by yourself." She suggested sailing to the islands as a joke, until Shane admitted not only was it possible, but he'd done it.</p><p>"Probably not the safest thing I've ever done, but I had fuel if I needed to correct course."</p><p>"Do you think I'll be good enough to help by the time we get in range?"</p><p>"Yeah.  The best part now is not having to worry about boat traffic."</p><p>The worst part is no Coast Guard or other boats to save them if they screw up, but that's not much different than being on land.  Everyone takes their lives in their own hands these days.  At least there's fewer chances of bandits on the water, she thinks.  She could have chosen to go west and explore the American Gulf Coast, but that's unknown territory.  For this adventure, retracing Shane's last voyage seems best.</p><p>~*~*~*~</p><p>Shane's in bed, reading, when he hears Beth talking softly to the puppies.  They seem to like sleeping in the galley near the door, versus Biscuit, who sleeps with Beth, and Muffin, who is in her usual spot curled against his knee.  They're still far enough north for the nights to be cold, even if the days are mid-seventies. It means running the heater at night, which uses diesel, so they have to be careful on fuel consumption.</p><p>Figuring Beth was getting a snack or a drink, he's a little surprised when she appears in his cabin doorway.  She's got a book in her hands, but she seems uneasy.  Sticking a scrap of paper to hold his place, he sets his book aside on the bed.  "Everything okay?"</p><p>Nothing seems out of place.  She's dressed in actual pajamas, unlike his t-shirt and sweats combo, something she collected along the way to the boat.  When he went to his cabin, she was on her side of the boat, taking a shower before bed.  They're aiming for an early start down the coast.</p><p>"I was sorting some things before bed, and I wanted my daddy's Bible closer to hand.  It reminded me I had these, and that you should see them." Beth holds out the novel, which seems to have an odd amount of oversized bookmarks.</p><p>Taking the book, he glances at the cover, noting the Harper Lee classic before opening it to the first bookmark.  His breath catches when he sees the Polaroid. Cradled in Carl's skinny arms is a small baby, maybe two or three months old. The color is off, like many of the instant film photos can be, but the pair are unmistakable.  "This is Judith?" he asks huskily.</p><p>Beth nods, taking a shuddering breath.  "Daryl found a Polaroid camera somewhere and some film.  They didn't always turn out right, because the film got hot before he found it.  But I took a few pictures over a couple of months.  June to September, I think."</p><p>There are seven photos.  Shane suspects Beth was the photographer in all but two of them, because three have Carl with Judith, one has Sophia, another Carol, and just the last two with Beth.  Judith's older in both. In one, she's sitting up on a blanket unassisted next to Beth, a stack of toy cups between them.  In the other, they're reading, and by some luck, the photo is clear as day, catching both their smiles.</p><p>His hand shakes as he carefully hands her back most of the photos with the book, keeping the two with Carl, which seem to span either end of the age range Judith is in the photos.  "You should keep the others, especially Carol and Sophia's."</p><p>The box of photos they took from his house is in a sealed plastic box to keep them safe from humidity or water.  Beth took a few of Carl and put them into water resistant snap frames, along with photos she took from her home when they buried her father.  They're hung in her cabin.</p><p>"I've got some frames left," Beth says softly, book hugged to her chest.</p><p>Shane manages to look up from the two photos with an effort.  "That would be nice.  Thank you."</p><p>The blonde disappears, and he can hear the footsteps into the galley.  In front of him is the daughter he'll never get to see in any way other than photos.  She's so tiny in the first photo.  If taken in July, she was already four months old.  Beth had said she was small for her age, but now he can see it.  </p><p>Would things have been better, if he'd stayed?  Maybe an extra able body would have kept them from nearly starving when Lori was pregnant.  Being on his own was dangerous, but he never went hungry for as long as Beth's told him about happening to them.  Then again, he headed south when it got cold.</p><p>The frame Beth brings back is large enough for both pictures, plus one more.  She arranges the Polaroids just so, before snapping it closed.  When she hands it back to Shane along with one of the adhesive hangers, she smiles sadly.  "You should have the cups one.  She was fascinated with those things.  Anything active that kept her hands busy.  Got that from you."</p><p>Shane studies the three photos and takes a deep breath at the idea of Judith having any of his characteristics without him being around at all.  She looked so much like Lori that he doesn't see a lot of himself in her.  Sliding out of the bed, he goes to press the adhesive hanger to the spot opposite his bed and hangs the framed photos up.</p><p>"I can't thank you enough," he tells Beth.</p><p>She shuffles her feet, wrapping her arms around her thin torso.  "It's just pictures."</p><p>Shane points to the baby, who is obviously laughing as she holds two cups.  It's not the toys that had her amused at that age.  It's the grinning young woman who had ahold of one of her tiny bare feet.  "You took care of her.  Loved her."</p><p>"Like she was my own," Beth admits.  </p><p>He's known that for a while, that Beth was Judith's mother when Lori couldn't be.  But now he has the visual proof in front of him, and he knows she is old enough to have made that emotional leap a younger teenager might not have.  They've drifted from the need for close comfort in the last two weeks, as the initial deluge of grief became more bearable.  Reaching out, he tugs her into a hug.</p><p>Beth returns the embrace easily, and he wonders briefly if she's feeling adrift, going from regular contact with people to very little.  He hadn't understood how touch starved he was for people until she came into his life.  The dogs are wonderful, but they aren't people.  When she seems inclined to continue the hug, he stays put, letting her petite frame lean into his bulk.</p><p>Eventually, she pulls away, giving him a wan smile.  "Got an early morning, right?"</p><p>"Yeah.  You warm enough?" They've got actual quilts from the bus in their cabins, but he has no idea if the aft cabins are as warm as his.</p><p>"Toasty, actually.  But looking forward to being somewhere warm enough to swim." She wraps her fingers around the rings on her necklace and bids him goodnight.</p><p>Climbing back in bed, Shane doesn't reach for his book again.  Switching the light off, he feels Muffin creep higher up the bed to resr against the small of his back.  He falls asleep staring at the section of wall that holds his best momentos of his daughter aside from the small cloth doll tucked in his drawer.  Fixing the past is impossible, but he can continue to looking after Judith's adoptive mother as best he can.</p><p>~*~*~*~</p><p>Shouting draws Daryl to the rec room on the floor Carol moved everyone to when she made her pact with the remaining officers and the wards that they would all stay the winter at the hospital before finding a viable home outside the city come spring.  Grady is secure in a way the prison never was, even moreso with their own additions.  But no one wanted to stay on the floors ruled by Dawn Lerner's corrupt cops.</p><p>They were too late to save Beth, and that's going to haunt them all for years.  Daryl blames himself that the independent streak he nurtured in Beth was enough for her to escape, but he didn't give her enough skills to survive.  That's changing with the younger kids.</p><p>They're going out with him daily, with the expansive resources the hospital has collected.  Maybe he's not as good in the city as the countryside, but tracking is tracking.  He's even been dragging that dumpy fake scientist along, all because Sophia insists Eugene deserves the chance to learn, too.</p><p>Speaking of the Texan, he's got Sophia held back, head tilted so she doesn't manage to whack into his still healing facial injuries.  The manuever is classic for breaking up a school fight, giving credence to the man being a former high school teacher.  Eugene isn't doing a thing to stop the girl from shouting and cursing.</p><p>Maggie's on the floor with a bloody nose, and no one's moving to assist her, not even Glenn.  The Korean is backed up toward Carl and Judith, looking as shocked as Maggie.  A few Grady folks are dodging the chaos in the fringes of the room.  </p><p>"What the hell is going on in here?" he barks out, glad to see Sophia stops struggling when he does.</p><p>"She tried to take Beth's necklace from me!" Sophia cries out.  "It's not hers, and she can't have it."</p><p>Maggie is getting to her feet slowly, eyeing Sophia warily.  Unlike Beth, the teenager is taller than Maggie and months of hard work have put heft on the girl that Beth never had.  Add in the festering resentment she's had toward Maggie not even looking for her sister before or after Terminus, and Daryl's honestly surprised it took two weeks for something to explode.</p><p>"It was my mother's!" Maggie says, pulling a bandana out of a pocket to staunch her bloody nose.  "It should go to me."</p><p>"It was Beth's, and she would want Judith to have it, not you." Eugene lets Sophia go, and the girl clutches at the leather cord Daryl repaired, fingers protectively around the cross.</p><p>"Why you asking about it now, Maggie?" Daryl queries.  Carol gave the damn thing into Sophia's keeping the first night they were here.  "Girl's been wearing it for two damn weeks."</p><p>"I thought she needed time to grieve." Maggie sounds sincere, although after her dramatics when she first learned of Beth's death, she's not seemed that grief stricken herself.  The Greene girls haven't been close in a long time, not since Beth took offense when Maggie didn't share her belief that Hershel would survive his amputation.  Daryl just figured everyone grieves differently.</p><p>"Sounds to me like she's still attached," he tells Maggie.</p><p>"It doesn't belong to her, and Judith wasn't Beth's daughter. She didn't give birth to her."</p><p>Before Daryl can reply to that, because Beth sure as hell was that baby's mama, Sophia does, her voice practically dripping venom.  "Just like Beth's mama ain't your real mama?"</p><p>Maggie reacts as if Sophia slapped her, eyes welling up with tears.  "It's not the same."</p><p>"Hell it ain't." Sophia steps around Eugene to pluck Judith out of Carl's arms.  "You best stop saying Beth wasn't her mama.  I'll hit you harder next time."</p><p>Daryl's a little afraid that harder might involve a blunt object. "Sophia, hitting Maggie ain't the solution." Somewhere in the afterlife, Merle is laughing his ass off at that coming out of Daryl's mouth.  "Why don't you and Carl take Judith down to let her play with Andre?"</p><p>As soon as the teens and baby are gone, Daryl turns back to Maggie.  "You got a problem about that necklace, you take it up with Carol, not the kids, or I'll look the other way if Sophia clobbers you with something.  Your daddy would be ashamed of you doing that."</p><p>Hershel would probably be upset with most of Maggie's behavior, but he's not going to judge.  Hershel never once rejected the wider family they became in those long months before the Governor came the first time.  Glenn's touching Maggie's shoulder lightly now, and Daryl wonders what he thinks of the mess.  He'll ask him later.</p><p>Eugene watches the couple leave and sighs.  "That young lady is a prime example of nurture over nature."</p><p>"Maggie?"</p><p>"No, Sophia.  It's not that Carol isn't quite bold, but half the girl's mannerisms are yours."</p><p>Bold is an understatement for Carol since the prison fell.  It's like accepting her banishment was the last meek thing she intended to ever do.  When Eugene admitted his lie the day after they took over Grady, Abraham hadn't reacted well.  Eugene ended up with a fractured orbital bone and nose.</p><p>Abraham got a bullet in the leg.  Daryl's still not entirely sure it's what Carol was aiming for, although at least the meaty part of the thigh isn't a fatal wound.  The big redhead is still on house arrest of sorts for now, not allowed around the children or Grady wards.  The irony is that it seems to intrigue the man more than offend him.</p><p>As far as Sophia, Daryl's stopped being flustered about their attachment. She's family.  "Worse people she could be imitating."</p><p>The ex-teacher just nods in agreement.  "See you in the morning?"</p><p>When Daryl assents, the other man leaves, strolling down the corridor toward where Daryl sent the kids.  He sticks close to the kids, Daryl, or Michonne these days, which isn't a bad thing.  Sighing, Daryl goes to find Carol, and hopes Maggie understands just what sort of shit she's stirring if she keeps rejecting Beth's place in their extended family.  Rick's barely on the fringes… Maggie may end up joining him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Updates from the other group may not appear in all the future chapters until spring... Carol's people will overwinter at Grady.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Shouldn't Be Afraid to Ask</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Shane and Beth explore the Everglades on their way to the Caribbean, and Shane finally asks Beth why she adopted Judith.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The fun part of having no real deadline for any part of their trip is that aside from Shane’s insistence on avoiding any highly populated place, like Tampa or Miami, he seems happy enough to let Beth play navigator.  Although the lure of the Bahamas is definitely still there, Florida has interesting places of its own, namely Everglades National Park.</p><p>It’s a place that Beth’s only seen on television, although she knew folks who vacationed down there.  Usually big places like Disney World are a bigger draw for family vacations, and maybe before the world ended, she would have liked to go to the amusement parks.  Now?  The last thing she wants to see is what became of any of those.</p><p>They take their time getting down to the marina Shane says accesses the park.  It’s normally a trip of hours from the Naples area, but so many islands fascinated Beth.  She’s still learning all she needs to know about sailing, so practicing before they do anything serious seems like a good idea, especially since the weather is staying nice and calm.  After a week on open water, Shane is letting her take lead more and more.  </p><p>Every night, they anchor off shore and take the dinghy in to one of the many islands that give the 10,000 Islands area its name.  One even has a walker, a man who took his kayak out to the solitude of the islands.  They can’t determine what killed the man, so Shane takes him out in the dinghy for a sea burial after Beth puts him down.</p><p>The downside of the islands is that the little no-see-ums love her.  By the time she applies enough insect repellant to be invisible to them, she stinks enough that sleeping on the island loses its appeal.  The boat’s far more comfortable than a tent on an island, but the islands give the dogs much needed exercise, and Shane has her spend time with her marksmanship each morning before they leave for the next one.  </p><p>Supper is whatever fish or other seafood they’ve caught for the day, and fishing is easy and plentiful, although nothing like what she’s used to.  Catching their own baitfish is fun, and Shane tends to prefer that to using lures, probably because the baitfish species are pretty populous.  </p><p>As much as she thought Florida would be shorts, bikinis, and tank tops as they got further south to warmer weather, she’s followed Shane’s example of wearing lightweight sailing trousers with reinforcement in apparently key areas and a light colored, fairly form fitting long-sleeved shirt.  The material dries fast, which is a plus when they do get wet.  Even better, it’s got some sort of UV protection, so she’s not going through gallons of sunscreen.  </p><p>The safety vests they both wear felt odd when he first made her wear one, with the harness along her back and chest that’s designed to auto inflate.  Now, it’s just part of the outfit whenever the catamaran or dinghy is underway.  Even her underclothing has been exchanged for things intended for athletes and wicking moisture away from skin, although she hasn’t worn a pair of socks since they reached Naples.</p><p>This morning they’re going to round Cape Sable, and Shane is standing next to her under the canopy.  He points toward shore.  “Little Shark River.  Place is sheltered enough to ride out any storms coming in out of the Gulf.  Deep enough we could go inland a ways even in this if we wanted to.”</p><p>That’s been his biggest caution, telling her facts like that, despite the fact that he’s collected charts and logs from other boats like some people collected baseball cards in the old world.  The little office area off her cabin is chock full of all sorts of information.  Although the GPS navigation systems still seem to be working, Shane’s reluctant to rely solely on them, since the satellites could fail or drift without warning.  She doesn’t blame him, even as she studies the depth charts for the river he indicates.</p><p>“All those mangroves.  Major bug territory, I bet,” she grumbles, although at least the mangroves usually equal seeing manatees, which is almost worth the bugs.  “It’s still not fair that they don’t bother you and eat me alive.”  Even mosquitoes don’t seem to notice Shane.  “You could go out there buck naked and nothing!”</p><p>Although the naked comment gets her one of those side looks similar to what Daryl often leveled at her or Carol if they said something deliberately off color, Shane shrugs.  His looks never hold the hint of embarrassed offense that Daryl’s did, though.  More like he’s just surprised she said it.  “Bugs will get less populated the further we get out of the wet season, but they’ve always ignored me.  Made fishing a lot more fun to not have to carry bug spray.  Kinda spent most of my summers outdoors as a kid.”</p><p>“I can picture that.”  The sheer amount of birds on the shore is more amazing than the dolphins they’d seen playing near last night’s island.  “It’s so pretty down here.  Quiet.”</p><p>“Yeah.  I didn’t explore as much as I should have when I came through before, either time.  Good fishing is the main reason I lingered.  You still sure you want to do the canoe trails?”</p><p>“How about we try whatever the easiest one is and see how the puppies do?”  The puppies have spent enough time on the catamaran, dinghy, and an inflatable canoe in practice for the canoe trails that Beth thinks they’ll do just fine.  Biscuit’s always been a natural on the water, according to Shane, and Muffin’s unflappable nature means she doesn’t seem to care what mode of transportation she’s dealing with.</p><p>“Works for me.”  Shane brushes his hair back from his face, before going inside and retrieving the hat he left inside earlier.  Although he trimmed back the long beard to something neater as soon as they started spending a lot of time around salt water, muttering about it itching, he hasn’t done anything about his long hair.</p><p>Beth’s learned the value of a good sun hat, along with keeping her hair carefully braided when they’re outside.  Even as slow as they tend to sail, her hair tangles like a briar thicket.  Her sun hat’s wide brim is nice enough on the bright days, even with wearing sunglasses.  Shane’s hat is similar, black where hers is cream colored.</p><p>“Would you like me to cut your hair?” Beth asks when Shane fusses with his hat.</p><p>He freezes, taking the hat off and running a hand slowly over his head.  Wide brown eyes look at her for a moment, and her brain catches up to what was probably the last time the man cut his hair.  His head had been shaved down to stubble the day they buried Otis.  After a minute, he swallows hard.  “Might be a good idea.”</p><p>With that idea in mind, and knowing they’ll encounter a variety of bugs when they reach the marina, they drop anchor while still far enough out for wind to keep anything from swarming.  They’ve got a couple of camp chairs for being off the boat, so she unfolds one for Shane after finding the scissors she owns to keep her own hair trimmed neatly.  He sends all the dogs inside and shuts the door, obviously not trusting the puppies around their feet while she cuts his  hair.</p><p>He’s sitting so utterly still and quiet as she runs the comb through his hair that she isn’t sure if he’s upset or not until she catches the small flexes he makes to lean into her touch.  Making it take longer than it needs to to detangle the long hair, she is sort of glad he can’t see that she’s smiling.  “How short do you want it?” she asks once she’s delayed as long as she can.</p><p>“About like this.”  He indicates leaving about two inches of hair, so she starts to work, letting the long strands fall at her feet.  It hadn’t been quite long enough for him to tie it back properly, although it was close.  </p><p>“Lots of folks didn’t bother much with trimming their hair at the prison,” she muses as she works.  “But I used to practice on my brother’s hair.  Shawn never cared if it didn’t turn out quite right, because he knew our mama could fix it.”</p><p>Shane doesn’t respond right away, but then he clears his throat.  “Last person to cut mine was Lori.  She trimmed it up at the quarry camp.  Me and Carl both.”</p><p>If he’s ignoring the shaving incident, she can, too.  There’s a lot from those days on the farm that can be forgotten, as far as Beth’s concerned.   The fading scar on her wrist is definitely one of them.</p><p>“His hair was getting pretty shaggy by the time the prison fell.  Bit like yours, to be honest.”  If Lori cut Carl’s hair most of his life, Beth thinks she knows why the boy always made himself scarce when her scissors came out.  “Glenn always liked his tidied up.  Him and Carol especially.  Daddy grew his hair out, believe it or not.  Had him a little ponytail.”</p><p>“Seriously?”  Shane sounds as unbelieving as Beth would be if she hadn’t witnessed it.  Her prim and proper father had been avoiding his haircuts for similar reasons to Carl.  Without her mama to keep him trimmed and prompt him to shave, he’d changed a bit.</p><p>“Yeah, he did.  Wish I had a picture of it, to be honest.”  If she’d realized she was going to lose him so soon, maybe she would have made him pose for a picture with Judith, too.  “That and his Santa Claus beard, as Sophia called it.”</p><p>“Wish you did, too.”  It’s almost too soft for her to hear, but Beth does, so she pauses in her trimming to place a gentle hand on Shane’s shoulder and squeeze lightly.</p><p>“I have pictures of him, thanks to you.”  If he hadn’t been willing to go back to the farm to bury Hershel, she wouldn’t have been able to gather her few treasures from home.  She moves around to stand in front of him to even up the front and sides from that viewpoint.  Gripping his chin gently after she’s finished, she tilts his head back and forth, and he moves easily as she directs.</p><p>It gets her a view of just how dark his lashes are, framing brown eyes that turn coppery with the sunlight when he glances up at her.  As much as everyone compliments her own pale blue eyes, she thinks his might be prettier, because you have to really look to see their true color.  Now they won’t be half hidden behind a sweep of hair all the time.</p><p>“Looks good, I think,” she says, dropping her hand away and brushing stray bits of hair off his shirt.  “Go check it out.  Let me know if you want it shorter.”</p><p>While he’s gone, she sweeps the deck, sending the hair into the water.  It swirls away from the boat as the dogs come romping out.  The puppies have to inspect the deck, especially the chair she’s folding to put away, making her laugh.  A splash nearby makes her study the dolphins in the bay, following some school of fish to feed.</p><p>When Shane reemerges, he’s smiling a little bashfully as he runs his hand over the neatly trimmed hair.  “You did good.  Looks like my barber used to do to keep me in regs with the police department.  I’m looking about respectable again.”</p><p>Beth just smiles at him.  “You looked perfectly fine when we first met again.”  If she’s honest, he’d seemed like a miracle, standing in front of her in that veterinarian's office.  “But now you’re prettier, maybe.”</p><p>Shane arches a brow, shaking his head as he smiles.  “I’m not sure anyone’s called me pretty since the first time I got my nose broken.”</p><p>“Maybe they should have had better vocabularies then.”  Setting the chair into the storage compartment, she catches him studying her when she finishes latching the hatch.  “Just telling the truth.”</p><p>He doesn’t seem to know what to say to that, so he does what he usually does and changes the subject.  She wonders if he would be offended - or Daryl come back to haunt her - by making the obvious comparison out loud.  “If you want to get us back underway, I’ll get them in their life jackets and then come help you make it into the marina.  It’s tricky at the end, depending on tide levels.”</p><p>“Alright.”  Since she’s already near the anchor hatch, she retracts the anchor.  Time to tackle the Everglades, if they can.</p><p>~*~*~*~*~</p><p>In the first two days of canoeing different trails around the Flamingo Visitor Center, Shane is glad that they practiced with the puppies and didn’t leave the dogs behind.  The area wouldn’t have felt truly safe for that anyway.  Confining them away from the predator population of the Everglades would have condemned them to a cruel death if something happened to Shane and Beth on their little adventures.</p><p>The first day, they tackle the seven mile Mud Lake Loop.  It is a good test of Beth’s fledgling paddling skills, since they take two canoes.  Initially, he thought about putting them all in one of the larger canoes, but the innate sense of caution he’s survived by decides two means they have a backup.  It also pushes Beth to more independence, something she craves and he knows is a side effect of feeling helpless after the prison fell.</p><p>The pups do well sitting in his canoe with their mother, curious but well used to being told to hold still.  They take in the scenery like it’s the best game ever.  Biscuit cruises along with Beth like he’s a mascot specially made for her.  Coot Bay has enough wind to really give Beth a challenge, and she’s grinning ear to ear by the time they get back four hours after they started.</p><p>As excited as it makes her, he wishes he’d found some digital camera or something.  All they’d seen that day was birds, but she’s been enchanted by those ever since they started seeing large numbers of them along the shores.  He really regrets the lack of photography when she spots the huge crocodile on the Nine Mile Pond Trail the next day, though.</p><p>There’s no fear or apprehension in her face at seeing the thirteen foot reptile, just bright joy.  She’s ahead of him, so he gets glimpses of her happy smile over one shoulder as she makes sure he’s paying the old croc his due admiration, too.  Her blonde hair is escaping the complicated double braid she put it in, kept in place only by her sun hat.  It’s enough to almost make him forget how haunted her eyes can get at times, aged well beyond her barely two decades.</p><p>Day three?  That gets more interesting, and Shane realizes they’re going to be using the camping gear he’s been packing along for the first time.  The Hell’s Bay Trail is living up to its name, navigable because of the white PVC markers in the mangrove forest.  It’s so thick that they don’t even see any birds, although fish and turtles are easily visible in the water.</p><p>Beth grumps at a tight turn, lays her paddle down, and just grabs ahold of a mangrove to push herself along, making Shane laugh.  She twists to shake a finger at him, trying not to laugh herself.  “Use all the tools available.  Isn’t that what you always say?”</p><p>He just salutes her, grinning.  The interchange makes Jelly curious, with the pup venturing toward the front of Shane’s canoe, wagging her tail enthusiastically at Beth.  “It got the job done, didn’t it?”</p><p>“Of course.”  Picking up her binoculars, Beth locates the next marker before picking up her paddle to propel her canoe forward again.  Once she figures out the mangrove assist trick, she uses it consistently until they exit the maze.</p><p>When they reach the Pearl Bay Chickee, Beth studies it for a minute before glancing back at him and sighing.  “Potty break,” she announces, tying off her canoe and managing to get up on the dock.</p><p>“Careful.  Doubt there’s walkers or wildlife out here, but that’s still a closed door,” Shane cautions, but she’s already kneeling to hoist Biscuit up onto the chickee’s platform.  The dog just seems curious, sniffing around the platform.  Beth readies her knife, opening the portapotty to reveal an empty interior and making a disgusted noise.</p><p>Shane ties off his canoe and laughs, figuring the puppies and Muffin could probably use a break after four hours in the canoe, too.  “It’s a portapotty in the middle of a Florida swamp.  Not gonna smell like anything good.”</p><p>“Keep it up, and I’m pushing you in.”  Shutting the door after delivering the mock threat, she disappears from sight, so he unloads puppies and Muffin, letting the dogs explore the tiny bit of wooden human real estate that’s not yet been reclaimed by the Everglades.  He’s not surprised that all three puppies find an edge of the dock with evidence of bird poop to relieve their small bladders.</p><p>Butter decides that barking at the fish he can see below the chickee is entertaining, at least until Muffin nips him into being quiet.  Shane doesn’t even have to give the verbal command for the pups to hush most of the time, and he admits that probably ninety percent of their training is Muffin’s doing.  By the time Shane uses the portapotty, Beth is sitting down, a little journal open in her lap as she scans the water.</p><p>“Seeing anything new?” he asks.</p><p>“Well, not new, technically.  Osprey and roseate spoonbill for my bird log.”  There’s a mini-sketch on the page when he looks, but she’s drawn the chickee, not the birds in question.  He’s seen her writing in the leather bound book enough to know it’s not just a travelog, so he looks away aside from that.  “Oh, dolphins!”</p><p>Sure enough, there’s a pod of four dolphins in the bay.  They seem to be playing, not hunting, so sitting to watch them seems much more interesting than coaxing the dogs back in the canoes.  “You wanna tackle heading back or keep going?” he asks Beth.</p><p>She hums softly, glancing at the sun.  “I’d probably be faster on round two through the mangroves, but why don’t we head down to the other chickee and camp there?  Might be the only time to do something like this.”</p><p>Considering these manmade campsites on open water will eventually be reclaimed by the Everglades, she’s likely right.  It doesn’t take long to load back up and paddle to the next chickee.  Shane sets up the tent and sleeping gear, while Beth takes over the second platform as a camp kitchen and gets out their fishing gear.  She’s distracted from her task though, because there’s a flight of white ibises.  </p><p>With her hat and sunglasses off, her blonde hair is now completely free of her braids, setting a golden halo around her head in the late afternoon sun.  The long tresses remind him of sitting still for the haircut a few days before.  The gentle touching as she checked her work and her face so close to his still has him a little unsettled.  Hugs and other light touches to get attention or guide the other are one thing.  </p><p>That?  There’d been something in her expression that reminded him that she’s been flirting endlessly with him since the night she corrected him about her age.  It’s never anything he can’t brush off, and she seems to actually expect him to do so.  He’s old enough to know it’s not uncommon for a girl to flirt a bit, practice figuring out who she is, with an older male she finds particularly safe to be around.  </p><p>In fact, enough of her small tales about her little group at the prison makes him fairly certain she’d given Daryl Dixon a bit of a run for his money.  Man was likely five to ten years older than Shane, considering Merle’s age in the equation, too, but the only man Beth mentions as much as she does Daryl is her father.  </p><p>It makes him curious about her sharing few stories of Glenn, who was family.  With her sister and the young Korean being at the age where being self-absorbed in a relationship is common enough, it’s likely little sister just got left behind. That's without even considering Maggie disregarded her in those messages along the railroad tracks.</p><p>She spots him watching her and grins sheepishly, returning to casting her line.  He rubs at his bearded jaw, where he can still feel that phantom touch.  Sighing, he finishes getting the tent set up.  With this chickee being right up near the trees, it’s likely to be mosquito heaven come dusk.</p><p>Beth’s already humming and cooking when he gets done, since eating in the canoes had been limited.  She’s caught a fish, but fileting is something she’s still learning, so he cleans the fish and passes the filets over to her to drop into foil packets.  It leaves him to catch the dogs’ supper, which is easy enough.  The complete lack of human interaction with anything here definitely is benefiting the fish and wildlife.</p><p>They don’t talk all that much while they eat, even Beth quiet tonight.  It’s their longest trip yet, so he can only imagine she’s tired.  After they eat, they escape into the tent away from the bugs that did make an appearance as soon as the sun started setting.  He’s half asleep when Beth shifts and turns the lantern on.  She rolls to her side, propping on her elbow, and eyes him across Biscuit’s warm bulk between them.</p><p>“When’s your birthday?”</p><p>The unexpected question takes him a minute to process.  “January twenty-eighth.”</p><p>She lays back down, still on her side to watch him.  “What day is it today?”</p><p>He really should make sure she wears a watch.  Most of the time, he isn’t sure why he keeps up with one, but he likes more warning of the seasons than trusting the weather and temperatures.  Raising his left wrist, he illuminates the watch face to make sure he’s correct.  “November twentieth.”  She’s been with him for a month and five days now.</p><p>“I bet that makes Thanksgiving this week, doesn’t it?”</p><p>“Watch says today’s a Sunday, so yeah, should be.”</p><p>“I’ll have to cook something good on Thursday then.”  Before he can tell her she doesn’t have to, she sighs.  “Last year…we were still wandering.  I don’t think anyone even realized we missed the end of November until it was halfway through December.”</p><p>“Alright.  Might not manage turkey, but we can sort something out.  More fish.  If you’re brave, we can snag a python out of the mangroves.”</p><p>She makes a face, but it’s silly, not offended.  “Snake tastes like fish.”</p><p>“Not sure a python would taste the same as whatever you ate up in Georgia,” Shane muses.  “Could go frogging.”  He says it before he remembers the quarry and Carl, and the silly playing in the water that never would have caught any frogs but made Carl laugh when laughter was in short supply.  It had been the last really carefree time he spent with the boy.  Lori’s words after…</p><p>The memory makes him ask something he might not have normally.  “Why’d you decide to adopt Judith?”  He’s wondered a few times, because Carol seemed so much more likely to take in an orphaned baby than a girl barely past eighteen.</p><p>Beth blinks at the subject change, reaching out to run a hand down Biscuit’s soft fur.  “Because Lori saved my daddy’s life.  I owed her to look after Judith.  Carol had Sophia and other responsibilities.  Me?  I could give Judy all my attention like no one else had time to do.”</p><p>Shane swallows hard at the wistfulness in Beth’s voice, especially when she drops the formal ‘Judith’ in favor of ‘Judy’.  “How’d Lori save Hershel?”</p><p>Lori’s the subject they avoid very carefully.  He isn’t entirely sure of Beth’s reasons, other than simply being goodhearted enough not to bring her up without Shane inquiring first.  His?  Guilt is the strongest.  He got Lori pregnant, and he left her to deal with it, knowing her relationship with Rick was probably cracked beyond repair.</p><p>“He got bit, when they were clearing the prison.  It was on his calf, so Rick chopped off the leg with a fire axe.  They brought him back, and Carol got the bleeding stopped.  But it was touch and go.  I was sitting with him… and he just stopped breathing.”  </p><p>Her voice hitches with threatened tears from the memory, and Shane rolls to place his hand over hers.  She turns her hand from petting the dog to clasp his fingers.</p><p>“I panicked.  Didn’t know what to do, despite having my CPR certification.  Lori?  She brought him back to me.”  Beth’s hand squeezes his hard.  “She died a week later, because she got separated from Daddy and Carol both when walkers got inside.  Maggie and Carl saved Judy.”</p><p>When she starts crying in earnest, Shane nudges Biscuit down to join the other dogs so he can hug Beth close.  After the first two weeks, crying’s been more of a random thing for both of them, but Beth lost a lot more than he did.  The way Hershel died makes him wish he hadn’t asked, since the answer led back to her father.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he says softly, once her tears dry, and she’s just laying on his chest. Her hand is idly petting his chest much the way she’d been petting the dog, earlier, and he’s not sure she’s doing it consciously. “I didn’t realize it would bring something like that up.”</p><p>“It’s okay.  You never ask questions, because it might make me cry.  You can ask all you need to, you know.  Eventually, maybe I won’t feel like crying, but you shouldn’t be afraid to ask.” </p><p>“I’ll remember that. Try and get some sleep.”  Smoothing her hair back from where it’s getting in her face, he reaches for the lantern, turning it off.  For the first time in weeks, he doesn’t move away to sleep apart from her, but lets her fall asleep on his chest.</p><p>Tonight’s likely to be a nightmare night for them both, and even though he’d be only three feet away in the tent how they were set up to sleep, it feels like too much. Focusing on her breathing instead of the dire images his imagination threatens, of just what would have had to happen for Maggie and Carl to deliver a baby to a woman who needed a c-section, he whispers a different apology.</p><p>Hopefully, Lori’s spirit is out there somewhere to hear it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>In rewatching Season 3 with BetaDaughter, I realized I completely forgot about Lori doing CPR on Hershel when he stopped breathing after his amputation.  It fit into Beth's psychology about Judith, especially for this AU.</p><p>The crocodile in the chapter really exits.  Park workers and visitors call him CrocZilla.  😁</p><p>Reader Question:  Do y'all really have to see the actual sail to the Bahamas?  Because I've watched a <i>bunch</i> of videos, but I still don't think I can do it justice.  I was thinking a time hop to have them being beach bums.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Scars, Part 1 of 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Shane and Beth go looking for their Thanksgiving dinner, and Beth finally gets to swim at a beach.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After Beth figured out Thanksgiving was coming, she couldn’t set aside the idea of doing something special.  Shane isn’t opposed to actually doing a supply run into a formerly populated area, as long as it’s small, so when they finally leave the Everglades, they scope out the Keys.  Shane keeps the Iris offshore, studying each area before deciding on one.</p><p>“Why this one?” Beth asks, eying the marina they’re approaching.</p><p>“There are birds all around.  They’re actually a good indicator of a larger, mobile walker population, because they’re sensitive to predators.”  </p><p>Beth eyes the seagulls on the beach, squabbling over some choice bit of food they’ve found washed up.  “They’re noisy, too, right?”</p><p>“Yeah, those are.”  Switching the engines on, Shane maneuvers the boat to an open slip at the marina’s multiple docks.  “It doesn’t mean there aren’t people around, because they can be smart enough not to set birds off, or walkers that just aren’t free to roam down to the beach.  So we need to be cautious.”</p><p>The reminder of the high likelihood of unfriendlies makes Beth shiver, just a little.  They’ve spent so much time in their own little bubble that she forgets that, more and more.  Even her nightmares are subsiding, easing back to weekly instead of nightly.  She doesn’t think Shane is aware of how bad they were at first, since she didn’t want to appear a burden then.</p><p>Now, she knows it’s silly that he would abandon her for such a thing.  He’s been alone except for canines for so long that she sometimes thinks that she could do anything short of a murder spree without him taking offense.  She’s half convinced even that wouldn’t sway him much.</p><p>Shane has them change from their boat wear into clothing like they wore before reaching the Iris: jeans, boots, long-sleeved shirts with the same moisture control as their boat wear.  Even though late November in the Keys is still summer warm, she wears her denim jacket without complaint, while Shane has an old military BDU shirt on.  The layers and tough fabrics make it near impossible for walker teeth to penetrate, leaving only their exposed skin at neck, face, and hands at risk.</p><p>Biscuit has his travel pack on.  Initially, Beth thought it was something more to add carry space for Shane when scavenging.  Now she knows that while he does occasionally let Biscuit pack lightweight items in the pockets, the pack acts much like their protective clothing.  The rugged material protects a large portion of the stocky pit bull’s body, makeshift body armor with added utility of pockets.</p><p>Guns and knives at ready, Shane leaves Muffin and the pups on the boat, with a baby gate keeping the pups in the cabin.  The flimsy baby gate won’t stop Muffin from knocking it down if she needs to exit, and the dogs aren’t trapped if something happens to both of them.  Neither of them want to risk the still learning puppies on an island they aren’t certain is deserted.</p><p>“We gonna stock up on everything here?” Beth asks as Shane hooks a radio to her belt after testing it.  The familiar unease of going into an uncleared area is curling in the depths of her stomach, but it lacks the fear it had when Shane first started training her.</p><p>“Might as well.  We’ve got the room, and the islands have more limited resources.  Not like we can’t sail back, but…”</p><p>“Better safe than sorry.”  </p><p>Shane nods approvingly, smiling briefly as he steps onto the dock and offers her a hand.  “Needs to be our permanent motto these days.”</p><p>“I don’t know much about these islands,” Beth admits as they approach the marina’s tiny office.  It isn’t anything fancy, just a building that seems to have served as an office and bait shop.  The place probably served more fishermen than dedicated sailors, she thinks, based on what she’s seen elsewhere.</p><p>“It’s not isolated.  You saw the wreck partly blocking the bridge going north, but the southern bridge was open, right?”  She nods at Shane’s commentary.  “Population in the Keys total was maybe seventy thousand, but this isn’t one of the really touristy ones.  Population here was probably a few hundred, tops.  Last time I ventured around the Keys, I didn’t find any signs of survivors, but I didn’t really look much.”</p><p>“Walkers would push north, wouldn’t they?  Looking for food?”</p><p>“Majority, yeah.  And if you consider that at least half the population died of the virus itself, half the rest were probably bitten, and a good chunk of the rest made some evacuation attempt, it gets even smaller.”  </p><p>He leaves unsaid that even fifty walkers would be more than they can handle encountering.  She hopes for small, scattered ones - and no humans at all.  It’s a selfish hope about the people, because she knows Shane worries about them being on their own.  The way he goes about stuffing her head full of knowledge tells her he’s afraid of something happening to him that leaves her alone again.</p><p>To be honest, that’s a feature of her nightmares, too.  What if she hadn’t found Shane at all?  What if he sacrifices himself to save her?  One is a puff of nightmare.  The other is an actual reality she prays she doesn’t have to face, and not just because being alone in this world terrifies her.  </p><p>There was a show Beth liked to watch, back when TV was an option still.  The two best friends on the show called each other their ‘person’, putting significance in that word that meant something more than friendship, as intense as family.  She doesn’t say it to him, but that’s how she thinks of Shane now.  He’s her person.</p><p>They clear the marina office easily.  There’s not much for human consumption left, but Shane does bag up all the remaining fishing lures, line, and other necessities.  Fishing gear is one thing they can never have too much of.  They move on to a condominium complex, most of the units are rentals, but they still glean what might be useful that’s been left behind.</p><p>One of the oceanside units has growling behind the door.  Shane hovers at the window, listening intently.  “Think it’s just one.”</p><p>“Can we just skip it?”  They’d done that before, during their trip south to where they boarded the Iris.  Shane firmly said there were too many homes without walkers to worry with tight spaces.  Clearing buildings with known walkers was reserved for smaller commercial buildings that might supply their needs.</p><p>“Normally, I would say yes,” he tells her, tapping at the window.  The walker shoves aside the blinds, half ripping them off the window in its frenzy. It was once a man, a few inches taller than Shane, but gangly and thin without much muscle even before the virus took hold. “But in a place like this with so many rentals, supplies are more likely in a unit with a walker than not.”</p><p>Beth nods.  There’s a town further down the island, along with a small resort and some sort of state park, based on information from the marina.  But it’s a long jog between where they are and that part of the island.  “Need the practice anyway, right?”</p><p>Checking the knob, it’s locked.  She steps back with Biscuit as Shane applies his usual blunt force approach to lock picking:  a crowbar.  As soon as the walker stumbles outside, focusing on Shane talking to it, Beth slams it in the back while hooking a foot around its ankle.  It tumbles down in a face plant that would be painful to a living human, and she lays its head open with her machete.</p><p>Dragging the body away from the door so it doesn’t block their exit, Beth marvels at how easy she can move the weight, compared to when she first joins Shane.  It makes her wonder if this was why Carol was so dedicated to those exercises that toned her from painfully thin to athletically muscled while they lived at the prison.  She’ll never have Shane’s lift capacity, obviously, but at least she’s not weak anymore.</p><p>She leads the way in clearing the three bedroom condo, and it turns out that Shane’s right.  Either the man was a full time resident, or he’d retreated to the Keys when the world ended.  His pantry is a pretty good find, compared to the randomly missed cans of green beans or corn they found so far.</p><p>“Man was going to need a cardiologist with all this,” Shane remarks as he adds the fifteenth can of Spam to the breakfast bar’s surface.  “I didn’t know Spam came in this many flavors.”</p><p>Beth giggles, because it’s not the first time Shane’s made a remark that makes her wonder just how much of a health nut the man was in his old life.  “We’ve eaten Spam.”</p><p>“Well, yeah, but it’s the only meat product he has.  Man didn’t even stock up on Chunky soups.”  Now Shane’s retrieving the canned meat product by the cardboard case, having pulled the loose cans out first.  They have twelve cans each, so the total of eleven cases plus extras gives them nearly a hundred and fifty cans.</p><p>“Hey!  I didn’t know they had a turkey one!”  Beth tugs a can out of the case closest to her, turning it over in her hands.  She honestly expects it’ll be some sort of fake, but the ingredients tell her otherwise.</p><p>“Won’t be your mama’s Thanksgiving bird by any means, but turkey’s turkey, right?” Shane asks.  “Bet we can sort something reasonably tasty out.”</p><p>“Or just pretend it’s the day after, and we’re making leftovers into meals.”  Setting the can back in the box, she hugs him.  “Thank you.”</p><p>It would have been easier and safer to stick to what they can catch from the sea, but when she wanted something different, he just set out a plan to make the attempt.  Shane returns the hug, one hand smoothing her hair as she rests her head against his shoulder.  “You’re welcome.  We might want to find something to help lug this stuff back to the marina in.”</p><p>Breaking into the maintenance storage for the complex gains them a dolly, allowing them to clear out the pantry.  In addition to the Spam, there is a selection of vegetables, although the man seems to have had a love affair with baked beans, too.  As they exit the condo, Beth eyes the body and drags it back inside.  Other than her machete blow, there’s no obvious signs of a bite, so he probably died of the heart attack his diet indicates, or maybe was infected when he retreated to the place.</p><p>Once they’re back to the Iris, the puppies and Muffin are set free to romp and run with Biscuit, expending the energy the dogs always have when they get to dry land.  Beth changes back into her boat clothes, padding bare foot back outside where Shane’s already inventorying everything they gathered today.</p><p>“Think we could find a beach safe to swim on?” she asks.  It’s an activity she’s been more interested in with their days holding steadily warm now.  In the Everglades, it would have been stupid, but out here?  It’s a big temptation.</p><p>Shane raises his head, tilting it toward the brochures left inside on the galley table.  “Think one of those said the state park has swimming areas.  Not sure how well they’d hold up without park rangers maintaining them, but we can go look.  Anchor the boat and take the dingy to shore.”</p><p>That earns him another enthusiastic hug, and she smiles to herself that he doesn’t shy away at all.  Touch shy he might have been at first, it’s not his natural inclination to avoid contact like it was for Daryl.  His willingness soothes a lot of that feeling of the world being too big around them that Beth’s felt since the prison fell.</p><p>~*~*~*~</p><p>The beach they find is typical of one adjacent to the reefs.  Seaweed is making a significant incursion, but there’s enough room for Beth to splash around.  Even the nurse sharks don’t dissuade her from venturing in.  The docile sharks are a regular sight nowadays, and Shane’s seen her petting them over the side of the Iris before.</p><p>She doesn’t have the sense of immortality a teenager would have, or even the fading sense that college kids generally operated under in the old world.  But she’s also developing the ability to take each day as she can, not holding back from enjoying the world gone wrong around them.  He envies her the ability, and lately, he even finds it’s a bit contagious.</p><p>The green tankini she’s wearing is fairly modest, a pretty little swimsuit that fits her nicely.  He’s glad she opted for that over the other options he knows she’s tucked away in her cabin, because it meant she didn’t end up needing assistance with sunscreen like she suggested she might.  </p><p>“You gonna hover on shore all day?” Beth calls out from where she’s floating on her back in the water.  The dogs are in the shallows, none trusting the underwater denizens enough to follow Beth out.  She may find the nurse sharks entertaining, but they don’t in the least.  “I know you don’t melt in the water!”</p><p>Shane laughs, kicking off the canvas boat shoes that they both wore to shore.  The dingy provides a fast way to retreat, and there’s nothing living or dead anywhere nearby outside of the water.  Shedding his shirt, he wades in himself, swimming past Beth.  None of the water here is all that deep, part of the reason the park has the swimming area set up.</p><p>He really shouldn’t be surprised that Beth has mischief in mind, although she waits until he’s making his way back toward shore.  She may be a petite slip of a woman, but the water is a great leveling field when she dunks him.  Tussling makes her laugh, especially when he doesn’t try to stop any of her attempts to submerge him.  It’s different in the water, her easy touch against the bare skin of his shoulders as she playfully shoves him under.</p><p>It’s only the dogs getting upset that brings them back to shore.  Swimming, the little pack understands.  Horseplay in the water seems to imitate too much distress for their comfort.  Beth plops on the scrubby little beach, giggling and reassuring all their collected mutts that their people didn’t manage to get eaten by some monstrous water creature.</p><p>“I thought there would be more sand on ocean beaches,” Beth says, studying the water.  Her hair loses most of its golden tone when it’s soaked with sea water.  </p><p>“Not much, unless they truck it in.  Effect of the reefs.  It’s like the islands up around Savannah.  Those have muddy water around most, from the river outflow.”</p><p>“You know Savannah?” she asks, rising from the pack of dogs to go lift her towel out of the bag she brought with her.  Her hair resumes some of its blond brightness as she runs the towel over it.</p><p>“It’s where Rick’s family had their summer place,” he replies.  It’s a memory that doesn’t sting as much as it once would.  “Learned to sail down there.”</p><p>“Cool.”  Beth smiles brightly.  “I only ever went once.  Mama won a river cruise, summer before everything went bad.  Maggie and Shawn didn’t want to go, so it was just me, Mama, and Daddy for a whole week.”</p><p>It’s only been a few days, but now Beth talks about the past in a happier fashion, now that they aren’t tiptoeing around the subject of their lost families.  Small bits of babbled information, the same as she would share if they’d met five years ago.  “Never tried one of those.  Seemed a little tedious.”</p><p>“It was!”  Beth laughs and throws her towel at him.  “I felt like the world’s biggest third wheel.  Figured out really quickly why Maggie and Shawn didn’t want to tag along.”</p><p>Shane snickers at her, scooping the towel off the ground and shaking it out before handing it back.  He doesn’t bother with a towel, pulling his shirt on over damp skin.  “You done with swimming?”</p><p>“Yeah, for today.  What about you?”  Glancing over, she spots the shirt back in place.  “Aww.  You’re pretty without the shirt, you know.  Even back at the farm, the women would get all chirrupy about the way you kept forgetting how to work buttons.”</p><p>Freezing, Shane stops tugging at the hem of his shirt.  One part of him wants to pretend he didn’t hear it, but locking things away sure hasn’t helped either of them.  “Didya ever think that might’ve been the point?”</p><p>Once it had been.  He’d liked being the center of attention, and his physical form draws eyes his way.  But more than a year on his own gave him a lot of time to get over the self-absorbed behaviors that nearly cost him his sanity on the farm.  Nowadays, keeping in shape is a matter of safety, nothing more, nothing less.  That’s too dour to spoil Beth’s day.</p><p>She saunters up, flicking her rolled towel over his head to rest around his neck.  He allows it, not sure what she’s doing, other than her eyes dance with pure mischief.  “It’s one of the good things I remember, you know.  You scared me at first.  The barn especially.  You were so righteously angry.”</p><p>Shane swallows hard.  As much as he doesn’t think there was any other way to get the message across to Hershel at the time, doing it in front of Beth, Sophia, and Carl?  That was what should have tipped him off that he was well and truly on the wrong side of sanity.  It also nearly got Beth killed, twice over.</p><p>If he turns his head, he can see the scarring on her wrist.  She doesn’t cover it anymore, not like she did at first.  All he can manage is saying, “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Don’t be.”  Her smile is so damn gentle and forgiving that it hurts to breathe.  “You were right on that occasion, so when I got better, I paid attention.”</p><p>“To my shirts?” Shane asks, arching a brow.</p><p>“Nah.”  Beth shakes her head.  “To what you were saying, when they caught that boy.  Randall.  I didn’t understand for a while, but eventually I learned.”  It’s said softly, but with a hint of steel behind it.  The mischief isn’t there so much now, her blue eyes solemn. “I listen when you speak, and I learn.”</p><p>Shane is still absorbing that when Beth uses the towel to eliminate the difference in their heights, tugging his head down just enough that her lips meet his.  It’s soft and sweet at first.  Not innocent past the first few seconds where Shane doesn’t react, but doesn’t push her away.  As wrong as he knows it is, when her tongue swipes across his bottom lip, seeking entrance, he allows it.</p><p>She tastes like salt water and the fizzy peach soda she found in one of the apartments today.  The Japanese lettering had made her laugh and explain remembering the anime and Japanese culture obsessed girls she grew up with liking the odd little bottles with the marbles inside.  It feels like an automatic response to drop his hands to her hips, feeling his palms slide just enough upward to contact the bare skin of her waist.</p><p>The last time he kissed a woman had been abrupt, just Andrea seeking to draw him to her side to go along with her plan to take him away with her.  This is about as far from that experience as anything can become, and the part of him that Beth holds in the palm of her deceptively delicate little hand yearns to just let it keep going.  But then…</p><p>Beth lets go of the towel in favor of cupping his face between her hands, one drifting to caress the left side of his neck.  Phantom pain lances along his skin where Beth is touching, and it’s better than ice water for the libido that Beth’s kiss is awakening. He lets go of her hips to take her wrists instead.  Pulling away is the hardest thing he’s done since he stepped into the woods around the Greene farm and just kept walking.</p><p>“Beth.  We cannot do this.”  It doesn’t even sound like his voice, rough and gravelly.  He keeps ahold of her wrists, even as disappointment spreads across her pretty face.</p><p>“I’m not a kid, Shane, if that’s the problem.”</p><p>Shane shakes his head.  “It’s not that.”  He can’t resist one temptation, so he turns her hand in his and places a kiss right on top of the jagged scar on her wrist.  It’s not fucking fair, that her skin is marked like this, yet his neck is clear of anything to declare him exactly what he is.  “What I am?  You deserve better than that.”</p><p>Letting her go, he steps backward, and she lets him.  Part of him expects her to argue, but she doesn’t.  Instead, she picks up the towel from the ground and whistles for the dogs.  He follows her to the dingy, getting them underway to return to the Iris.</p><p>Beth keeps rubbing her wrist and watching him under a tangled fall of blonde hair, and Shane pretends that he doesn’t see it.  She’s a survivor, wearing the scar of her choice to keep surviving.  That more than anything sends home the lesson to him that she deserves far more than a man who ought to wear three parallel scars on his neck.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Now... I'm not so cruel as to make you wait for the rest.  I'm a bit in the zone for the story, so since it was running long, you'll get at least one more chapter, but possibly two, to resolve Shane's issues with his past and moving on.  The next chapter(s) will come as the next ones in line. :)</p><p>The exact Key they're hanging out on, I leave unnamed since it wasn't all that important, but for general research and curiosity, check out Long Key.</p><p>I know I said the Bahamas next, but they took a detour.  Oops.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Scars, Part 2 of 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Shane and Beth fumble their way back to the way things are, which leads Shane to decide he needs to tell Beth about the CDC.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Small warning: Beth has some negative, dark thoughts about her suicide attempt as part of her own process of accepting that part of her.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The thing is, Beth is aware that her flirting with Shane is less innocent and more serious as time goes by, but she never planned to act on it.  He doesn’t seem to mind her risque playfulness and occasionally even seems to find it amusing, never embarrassing.  It’s a bit of fun, for both of them, she thinks.</p><p>And maybe it had been, before she wriggled her way into kissing him.</p><p>He kissed her back, for a brief, heady moment, just enough for her to get an idea of how good it could be.  Then she touched him, and something about it sent him fleeing with claims of not being good enough for her.  Shame rolled off him thick enough that you’d think he accosted her, not her kissing him with little warning.</p><p>Once they reach the Iris, they follow normal routines.  Although subdued, Shane doesn’t give her the silent treatment or otherwise acknowledge what happened on the beach.  She showers and feeds the dogs.  He showers and starts supper.  While they eat, he shares the course maps for the crossing to the Bahamas and drops a tourist guide he lifted from somewhere on the cushion between them at the galley table.</p><p>“Not sure how much is really accessible, and hurricane season could have hit some places that were intact when I sailed through,” he tells her.  “We can set off day after tomorrow, unless you want to go sooner.”</p><p>It’s a question without actually asking, she knows, when his dark eyes meet hers.  Does she still want that to celebrate that holiday meal with him?</p><p>“Day after tomorrow,” she assures him.  She’s an adult, and so is he.  If he’s not interested, she has to respect that.  It doesn’t change him from being her person.</p><p>When the supper dishes are washed and drying in the rack, she waits until he brings the dogs back in from their evening call of nature and motions to the television in the galley.  “Want to watch a movie?”</p><p>It’s a habit of theirs, when they raid places with DVDs, to squirrel away copies of anything that looks interesting.  They have more than a hundred of the things now, enough that eventually she’ll have to figure out a better way of storing them than plastic bins.  Discard the cases, maybe, and put them in some sort of album.</p><p>“Sure.  Check what we brought in today.”</p><p>Beth catches a look of relief on Shane’s face at the request, which seems so simple.  It appears he needs reassurance in his own way that they’re okay.  The pile gleaned today in the condos isn’t as large as some of the residential searches yield, but it’s funny that she’s been thinking about that show off and on today.</p><p>“All five seasons?” she tells him excitedly, waggling the DVD cases.  “This is a score.  I always watched this at my friend Kayla’s house, because Mama thought it was one of the trashiest shows she’d ever seen.”</p><p>Shane just smiles and shrugs.  “Haven’t seen it myself, but I know a lot of the deputies’ wives were obsessed with it.  Figured if you didn’t like it, you could play frisbee with them.”</p><p>“I saw the season finale for the sixth season, a few days before everything shut down.  It was the last time I left the farm, actually.  Stayed the night with Kayla and a couple of other girls from school, talking about what we were going to do with our summer before we went off to college.”  Sliding the first disc in, she plops in her customary spot, turning her side of the L shaped galley seating into a lounger by scooting back into the cusp of the L.</p><p>Bringing his nighttime coffee to the table and depositing another bottle of Ramune in front of her, Shane sits in his normal spot.  It leaves him sitting normally, although sometimes for movies he’ll prop a camp chair out to use as a makeshift ottoman.  “Where were you going to college?” he asks, looking interested, despite it being fairly useless trivia.</p><p>“Georgia Tech’s School of Architecture.”</p><p>He looks suitably impressed, not at all like her schoolmates who rolled their eyes at dainty Beth Greene going off to do something that wasn’t music or farming or fucking off through five years of college before scraping together a nonsense degree like Maggie did because Daddy said buckle down or he wasn’t going to foot the bill anymore.  She shouldn’t think ill of the dead, but Maggie gave up on her, not the other way around.  It’s hard to not think about her sister’s all too human shortcomings sometimes, now that the grief has receded and doesn’t choke her anymore.</p><p>“At least it’s not really an obsolete career field, if you still wanted to learn, right?”</p><p>It earns him a bright smile as she presses play on the remote.  They’re going to be okay, she knows, because everything feels like the kiss on the beach was just a fever dream brought on by too much time in the sun.  Here, cozy in their galley with the sounds of her favorite evening soap opera playing, they’re still good.</p><p>They make it through two episodes before calling it a night.  Beth considers it a victory because Shane’s attentive, not bored in the least, although he calls Meredith annoying as hell.  The fun of a show like this is that you don’t have to like the main character to enjoy it, thank goodness.</p><p>Lying in her bed as the boat rocks with the water’s movements, she finds herself rubbing her wrist along that ugly, telltale scar.  She hates the thing, because it tells anyone who sees it how weak she was, how she allowed her mind to go down a dark path of despair.  When Shane kissed it today, though, something about the gesture sticks with her even more than the frustrated arousal her kissing him brought.</p><p>Holding her wrist up, she studies the silvery tissue in the glow of the nightlight she switches on for moonless nights.  The blue light casts odd shadows, and she can’t see what about it made him press his lips so tenderly to the mangled ridge of flesh.  That look he gave her after was so intense, like it’s not a mark of shame, but some sort of badge of honor.</p><p>Maybe he would tell her, if she asked, but she’s used up her quota of bravado for the time being.  Once there’s more time between today and her asking the question, it’ll be easier for them both, she suspects.  With a sigh, she rolls to her belly, feeling Biscuit creep up the bed to lay against her hip and side now that she seems to be going to sleep.</p><p>Thanksgiving dawns, and Beth doesn’t need to whip up an elaborate meal, but a sense of anticipation sends her out of bed even without a trio of puppies demanding to be let out. Shane’s amused when she peruses cookbooks, refreshing her memory versus what they have supplies on board for.  Piemaking probably isn’t within her ability, but a cobbler should be much easier.</p><p>It is, but that’s because Shane actually knows how they’re made.  “My grandmother was the cobbler queen back when she was alive,” he imparts, helping her make changes between the book and reality of their supplies.  Don’t ask me to figure out cookies or cakes or anything fancy, but cobblers and breads?  Those I learned.”</p><p>She already knew he’s a fair hand at breadmaking.  They even have a breadmaker that earns full time residency on their limited counter space.  He collects cans of milk like they’re precious treasures, along with testing out any powdered supplies he finds.  Today’s loaf is something cinnamony smelling, which makes the entire gallery smell like a kitchen should on a holiday. </p><p>Beth makes a mental note to learn his favorite cookie and hopes it’s something she can figure out with the substitutes she’ll have to make.  At least applesauce seems to be in plentiful supply to replace eggs that aren’t, and it’s something they can actually recreate themselves.  Well, if they go find orchards at the right time of year, anyway.</p><p>“Chef Shane,” she teases, heading into the supply cabin.  “Cherry, blueberry, or peach?” she calls out.  They’ve got several cans of each, some as fruit, some as pie filling, plus others, but she’s in the mood for one of those three.</p><p>“Cherry.”</p><p>She gathers up the rest of her items, including those for lunch later, and ventures back into the galley, vowing today will be a good day, a holiday for both of them to have good memories to look back on.</p><p>Spam’s version of turkey isn’t quite revolting, but it does incite a lot of groans (Shane) and giggles (Beth).  Shane manages to bury his slices under what looks like half a can of cranberry sauce.</p><p>“Pretty sure calling that turkey is like calling vienna sausages fine dining,” he declares.  “I suggest we use the rest for dog treats and fish bait.”</p><p>Agreeing, Beth spends most of her time enjoying her vegetables, knowing they can gorge on cobbler after the meal.  Instead of the football game Shane probably hovered over in the old days, if he wasn’t working, they spend a lazy afternoon watching more episodes of her show.  It’s entertaining to critique the show with him, because his jaundiced opinions of the shenanigans are so much more complex than Kayla’s had been.</p><p>It isn’t until the final episode of the first season is underway that Beth realizes she may have made a mistake with the series.  Shane goes from casually watching to stiffening when Addison introduces herself, and Beth snakes a hand across the cushion to link her hand with his.  He allows the gesture.</p><p>“We can watch something else,” she suggests.  His thumb rubs across her unscarred wrist as if there’s an echo of the other one there.</p><p>“I’m fine,” he assures her.  “What happened, happened.”</p><p>She hesitates, even as the DVD goes back to the menu.  “Um, it gets more complicated later, when the other man shows up.”  Jesus, it’s almost creepy what she’s done here, picking this series to watch, with the triangle turned whatever you call it adding Meredith into the mix.</p><p>“It’s still fine.  You like the show.  We’ll keep watching.”  He watches her yawn and shakes off the melancholy.  “But not tonight.  Tomorrow, we venture out into the Atlantic and let you set foot on foreign soil for the first time, if all goes right.”</p><p>When they both stand to head to bed, Shane surprises her by drawing her into a hug.  It’s closer to the early ones, where he flung an arm across her shoulder and gave her a hug like she’s used to seeing guys giving each other.  She still smiles, because he did it of his own accord.</p><p>“See you in the morning,” she calls out as he heads down the steps toward his cabin.</p><p>His dark head swivels long enough for her to catch his smile.  “Sweet dreams, Beth.”</p><p>“Same to you,” Beth replies.  Sleep comes easier this night, because she smiles all the way to bed and even after she’s beneath her sheets.</p><p>~*~*~*~</p><p>Shane’s biggest fear after the beach was that it would damage the easy camaraderie he and Beth have developed.  They live in such close quarters that avoiding each other is completely impossible.  It doesn’t change his refusal, because that is a complication they certainly can’t get over when it inevitably fails because that’s how any relationship with him will end.</p><p>It ends up such a needless worry that he laughs at himself in the privacy of his own cabin.  He knows Beth better than that by now.  It’s only his own sense of never keeping anything he values that made him think she would somehow change their friendship.</p><p>Crossing the Gulf Stream is easier with two sailors than one, which Shane expected, but he’s grateful that they dallied so long.  The extra practice Beth’s had with the boat shows as she responds to his orders with ease.  Twelve hours to make it from their exit point of the Keys to Bimini exhausts her, even with the stamina she’s been building since they met.</p><p>He selected Bimini because unlike some of the more populated areas, he’s been on shore here.  After the exhausting crossing on his own, he needed time on dry land.  With an already small population that catered more to fishermen and environmentally inclined tourists, it was essentially deserted when he arrived.  </p><p>Beth flops onto the trampoline netting in the bow of the Iris once she drops the anchor.  For tonight, they’re staying off shore of South Bimini.  Just because the island was home only to wildlife when he left, doesn’t mean someone hasn’t taken up residence in the meantime.</p><p>“You gonna sleep there?” Shane teases, nudging her knee with his foot after letting the dogs out of the cabin.</p><p>“Might.  Shouldn’t be any bugs, right?” she replies, still energetic enough to cuddle three puppies who are overjoyed to have their Beth back after a day spent inside for their own safety.</p><p>“Nah.  We’re just far enough out.”  The bulk of the Iris obscures where she’s relaxing from the shoreline, so it’s also out of sight.</p><p>She giggles tiredly.  “I’m in a whole different country now.  It feels weirder than it should.”</p><p>Shane laughs, sprawling on the firm surface of the deck, looking over the side into the clear, tropical water.  “No real country lines anymore, I imagine, unless places like Europe or Asia held together better than North America did.”  He raises up to smirk at her.  “You’d be committing a crime of sorts in the old world, you know.”</p><p>Arching a brow, Beth rolls to her side to face him.  “How so?”</p><p>“No passport.”</p><p>“True.”  She flops back on her back.  “I’m betting you had one, probably for some crazy trip to Mexico.”</p><p>“Nah.  Had one since I was a kid.  Rick’s parents always took me along if they traveled, so he didn’t get lonely.”  It could have been an uncomfortable thing, always being Rick’s tagalong, but his best friend’s parents had been so casual about assuming Shane would be along that it never felt wrong.  He brought himself out of the genteel poverty his mother raised him in, gaining that football scholarship, but he’s honest enough to know it was easier to break free of where he came from, with the elder Grimes’ influence and kindness.</p><p>“That must have been really nice, always having someone your own age right there with you.”  Beth’s got Jelly settled on her chest, petting the gangly puppy’s silky fur.  Her expression is more sad than tired.  “Shawn and Maggie were enough older than me that I usually felt like I was an only child once they were teenagers.”</p><p>“How much older were they?”  Shane had no idea how old Maggie was, other than young enough to run almost completely on emotional reactions, like the day she egged poor Glenn’s head for being loyal to his own people’s safety.  It had been such a petty, bitchy thing to do to the earnest kid that he wishes Glenn had been wiser than Shane in his romantic choices.</p><p>“Maggie was five years older, Shawn eight.”</p><p>“Sucks being the youngest,” he teases, wanting to chase away the lingering sadness.  “Rick was a whole two months older than me, right down to the day.”</p><p>It’s just a joke, but Beth registers the significance faster than Shane does.  She’s got her left hand linked in to his nearest hand before it hits him, squeezing his hand and anchoring him in a fresh wave of grief.  Breathing through it, he keeps ahold of her even when he can acknowledge what’s wrong.</p><p>“Jesus.  He would have been thirty-seven in three days.”</p><p>Beth absorbs that information, just holding his hand.  The raw emotion in his voice draws Biscuit to trot over and nose along his jaw.  The pit bull is always more attuned to emotional shifts than Muffin, although the Aussie isn’t far away, watching him with solemn doggie eyes.  He pets Biscuit with his free hand, which leads the dog to flop down right on his chest.</p><p>Shane groans at the impact of sixty pounds of solidly muscled dog, hearing Beth giggle.  It signals the puppies he’s fair game, and all three abandon their favorite to play pounce on Shane.  It’s hard to hold on to the gaping sense of loss while keeping Butter from nipping his nose, so he ends up smiling.  He’ll do something to remember his estranged brother by when the day comes, but for tonight, he’s just going to be in this moment instead.</p><p>Beth’s suggestion to sleep outside turns into what they actually do.  She budges over, tugging Shane to roll off the hard deck onto the trampoline.  Long trained to wake early, Shane wakes before she does.  The tangle of limbs is something he should extract himself from, but he allows himself a few contented moments of being Beth’s pillow.</p><p>It’s not like they haven’t shared a bed before.  After the horrors of Terminus, they’d shared the bed in the bus for a while.  But once they were on the boat, he’d carefully directed her toward  her own space.  The night in the tent on the chickee in the Everglades was the only time that changed.  This feeling of rightness when she’s lying against him is why he had to say no when she kissed him.</p><p>There will be no such thing as casual if they cross that line, and he can’t risk becoming obsessed with her the way he did with Lori.  Pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, he eases away, counting on her exhaustion to keep her sleeping.  They skipped supper last night, so a hearty breakfast will be a good way to start off the day.</p><p>South Bimini proves as deserted as it was before, at least as far as the dogs alert to.  Shane didn’t go house to house on the small island’s eighty or so homes, but he cleared the resort of half a dozen walkers.  Loose on the island had been another twenty or so, but those were easily lured to a central place to be dispatched.</p><p>They drift back to the broad white sanded beach, and Shane motions.  “Is this what you had in mind when you thought about tropical beaches?”</p><p>Beth flashes him a grin.  “Guess we need to head back to the boat so I can change.”</p><p>Like most of her wishes, it’s an easy one to fulfill.  To emphasize that things haven’t changed between them, he swims with her.  The dogs get braver here, with better visuals in the water, coming to swim with them a bit.  After an hour, Beth naps under a beach umbrella on a towel, still clad in the ruby colored one piece she chose today.</p><p>The funny part is, the more conservative swimsuits seem almost more than a bikini would be.  Ignoring flashes of bare skin is a necessity in close quarters.  When he doesn’t have to turn away, he keeps catching himself looking when he shouldn’t.</p><p>Now that he knows she’s serious about flirting, he needs to lay all the cards on the table, instead of just telling her no.  She needs to truly understand what he is.</p><p>Although there are pretty places to stay on the island, they choose the Iris.  The boat is home.  Shane can’t quite begin the conversation in the galley where they spend so much time together, so he’s out on the dock, feet dangling over the water.</p><p>“Shane?”  Beth’s voice fades in and out as she makes her way through the boat, obviously looking for him.</p><p>“Out here, Beth.”  Avoidance isn’t his thing, not anymore.</p><p>Light footsteps tell him she’s walking down to his spot on the wooden planking for the next slip over, which stands empty.  “Shane?  I thought you don’t drink.”</p><p>He tilts the bottle toward her, letting her see that the seal is not broken.  On their explorations, he found it in an outdoor cabana, no worse for wear after eighteen months sitting on a shelf in a barely sealed cabinet.  Peeling at the label, he looks up at her.  “Have a seat if you like.  I got something I need to tell you.”</p><p>Once she knows about that night in the CDC, she’ll never look at him the same way.  He’ll find a way to live with that somehow.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well, remember how I said 2 or 3 chapters?  It's at least 4, because I'm mostly done with the third and it's still not complete.</p><p>BetaDaughter and I just finished Season 6.  I have so many ideas <b>exploding</b> in my brain on how that scene where Negan makes his grand entrance is going to change... 🤯</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Scars, Part 3 of 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Beth's reaction to what happened in the CDC isn't what Shane expected.  Back in Atlanta, Daryl alerts Carol to a possible problem.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Finding Shane holding that bottle of alcohol makes Beth’s heart skip a beat.  She doesn’t know why he stopped drinking, but she didn’t grow up with Hershel Greene and not understand the dangerous effect that liquor has on the brain.  It’s why losing him made Beth want to break that taboo and let hers get thoroughly soaked in something forbidden.</p><p>Daryl turned ugly when he was drunk, lost to the horror of memories of his family.  Being in that moonshiner’s shack hadn’t been lost on her how all the softness of her Daryl peeled away.  She hadn’t feared him, even then, because even angry and hurting, she’d known in her heart that Daryl was safe.</p><p>The way Shane is eying that bottle in his hands?  It feels like something worse than the demons that came out of those moonshine jars for Daryl.  Holding it like a talisman, he just keeps turning it, rubbing at the label with his thumb with each rotation.</p><p>Beth sits down beside him, unsure if he would welcome being touched right now.  He might not be under the influence of alcohol, but bad memories are worse, sometimes.</p><p>He’s barely audible when he starts speaking.  “Before we came to your farm, we were in the CDC for a night.  It was the first time we’d been inside a building to sleep since the evacuations began.  Safety, good food, hot showers.”</p><p>Holding the bottle out away from him, Shane lets the amber liquid catch the sunlight.  “Alcohol.”</p><p>“Y’all got drunk?” Beth asks, when he seems stuck, staring at that bottle.</p><p>“Lot of us did.  Wine for most of them, but me, I spied the hard stuff and let it help me lose what was left of my goddamn mind.”  He looks at her out of the corner of his eye, but his lashes shadow too much for her to catch his gaze before it’s back on the bottle.  </p><p>“Lori blamed me for thinking Rick was dead at the hospital.  Seemed to think I lied just to take her and Carl for myself.  I was drunk and stupid and thought if she’d just listen to me and try to understand…”  He trails off.  “No.  That’s making excuses, and god fucking knows I wanted to beat the shit out of any man who tried that when I was a cop.”</p><p>One of his hands leaves the bottle to rub at his neck, right where Beth touched him yesterday.  “If she hadn’t stopped me, made me hurt enough to stop what I was becoming…”  He looks at her, brown eyes clouded as he stares right at her for the first time since he started talking.  “I attacked her, Beth.  I tried to force myself on her.  What that makes me ain’t nothing worthy of you.”</p><p>“How did she stop you?” Beth asks, because the enormity of it is hard to absorb, and sometimes the seemingly dumb question is the best one to figure things out.  Lori was one of the strongest women she knows, but she was tiny compared to Shane.  It feels like a stupid question, but it’s all her brain can manage right now.</p><p>“Scratched me.  Laid my neck right open.”  Shane draws three fingers down the side of his neck.</p><p>Beth understands now, why he froze so completely when she touched him there.  “That all?”</p><p>“What the hell, Beth?  That all?”  Anger and a sort of grief twists his expression, as if he can’t decide between being mad at her or worried for her.  “The fact that she had to draw blood to stop me from raping her?  That’s enough.”  His voice breaks, the last two words even more impactful to her for their lack of volume.</p><p>How to respond to that isn’t anything even the changes of the world have really prepared her for.  She reaches out to tug the bottle of whiskey from him and studies it for a moment, remembering that night where he told her the worst thing he ever did involved alcohol.  “You stopped drinking.”</p><p>Her response makes him frown, even as she breaks the seal, twisting the cap off and bringing the bottle to her nose to sniff the contents.  Like every other hard liquor, it sets off those warnings in the brain meant to tell humans it’s not intended for their safe consumption.  Meeting Shane’s increasingly confused gaze, she tips the bottle sideways.</p><p>Amber liquid mixes with sea water below their feet.  The color swirls and is soon erased as a wave rolls in.  Beth drops the cap in next, letting the little scrap of metal hit the sand before she takes the empty bottle and taps Shane right on the forehead with the neck of it.  “You quit poisoning yourself.  You quit.  You made that choice.”</p><p>This conversation isn’t just about him attacking Lori anymore, and they both know it.  It’s about the man who packed his things and left a situation so toxic for him that if she’s honest with herself, someone would have probably died to resolve the problems between Rick and Shane.  </p><p>Holding the bottle out, Beth drops it, too, watching it fill with water and sink to the sand to land on its bottom.  It wobbles in the water, caught in the motion like it’s dancing underwater.  She decides to take a chance and reaches out to lay her hand along that part of Shane’s neck he’s rubbing raw, pushing his hand aside.</p><p>Shane allows it, with the same gentle willingness that he’s always used around any demand she makes of him.  Horror flickers in his eyes at first, but it fades when she just keeps up a slow caress on his skin.  “Lori was never afraid of you.  If you were the monster you think that makes you?  She would have been afraid.”</p><p>One of his big hands covers hers, but it isn’t to remove her touch for once.  Instead, he just holds her still, searching her face with eyes that hold the promise of tears.  She lets him look his fill, to see that even with what he’s told her now, there’s not an ounce of fear in her where he’s concerned.</p><p>His soul is scarred by that choice; to drink, to pursue Lori, to attack her.  The damage was layered on further when he killed Otis.  There’s probably more darkness that passed through his mind when he was struggling, things that backed all those outburst on the farm.  But in the end?  He was stronger than the madness.</p><p>“You chose to be a better man, Shane,” she says softly.  It’s what her daddy did, walking away from the drinking and the legacy of violence from his own father.  It’s what Daryl did, becoming something more than the throwaway redneck barely on the fringes of the group.  People change, and Shane had not been beyond redemption when he chose to be more than the monsters that roam this world pretending they’re still human.</p><p>Shane just swallows hard, so she caresses his cheek instead.  When she leans in this time, it’s to place a kiss on his cheek.  Sweet. Innocent. What he needs to continue on his journey.</p><p>“I’m gonna go start us some supper.  Think there’s some cans of chicken and dumplings calling my name tonight, if you want to join me.”</p><p>Standing, she leaves him on the dock, heading back to the Iris.  When she looks back, he’s got the edge of the wood gripped in his hands on either side of him, staring down into the water.  Biscuit whines from where he’s uneasy about making the leap from the boat to the dock, so she lifts him up.</p><p>When the dog lopes over to burrow under Shane’s arm, Beth feels confident in going inside.  Just as Biscuit helped Shane heal in the months with it was just the pair of them, he’ll help him now.  Beth’s done her part.  Now it’s up to Shane.</p><p>~*~*~*~</p><p>Sitting on the dock, watching that bottle underwater, Shane doesn’t feel able to go inside.  Beth’s graceful forgiveness of his worst crime is hard to wrap his mind around.  What he did with Otis?  That had some sort of motivation at least, something beyond his own selfish narcissism.  They weren’t both getting out of that place, and Carl had to live.</p><p>There’s no such justification for the night at the CDC.  But Beth hadn’t tried to make any, had she?  Her own pardon of his sin, her very confidence in his ability not to repeat such a horrific act, is based on the fact that Lori wasn’t afraid of him.  Perhaps there’s some sense to it, since Lori knew him for years, and trusting her judgement is logical.</p><p>There was no fear in her expression, no hesitation when Shane looked for it.  To Beth, it’s as simple as a choice to never be that monster again.  It’s a form of absolution where he didn’t think he was seeking it, because he can no longer obtain it from the woman who had the first right to give it.</p><p>Finally, Shane manages to get to his feet, stumbling a little with an ass gone numb from lack of movement.  He nearly ends up in the water alongside that bottle, and some of the weight of his confession slides away under an unwilling amusement of what Beth would think of him managing that.  Biscuit waited faithfully once Beth sent him to Shane, and the dog is anxious that his people are both back where they belong.</p><p>By the time he makes back to the boat, Beth’s already cleaned the kitchen.  She’s relaxed in her usual spot, flipping through that tourist guide he gave her.  It’s got little flags of post-it tabs now, and he’ll bet they have teeny tiny notes in her handwriting.</p><p>“I have so many questions about this place, you know,” she says, flicking her gaze up from where the book is.  “Did people really swim with pigs, and why the hell would they do that?”</p><p>No comment on the intense discussion outside, just an easy acceptance that the past had happened and life goes on.  Shane shrugs.  “I have no idea why they got started doing that, but yeah.  Had a college buddy come down here on his honeymoon and do all the touristy stuff.”</p><p>“Don’t the pigs shit in the water?” Beth asks, frowning at the page, wrinkling her nose.  “Plus those things bite.  Daddy never would raise them because they’re kinda gross, not before.  We had one at the prison, and some piglets, and the stink… Ugh.”</p><p>“I do believe he mentioned having to dodge some pig shit when he was there.”  Being able to laugh when her expression becomes even more disgusted is a surprise, but she beams at him, bright and happy like he’s used to seeing from her.  “Interesting what people will pay good money to do.  The swimming with the sharks thing wouldn’t be half bad, if the place isn’t overrun, or the sharks gone back untamed.”</p><p>“Maybe.  I’ve kinda done that before.”</p><p>“Need to find you a camera.  Let you document some of all this.”</p><p>Beth tilts her head, making the ponytail she’s got atop her head bounce.  “Like a Polaroid?”</p><p>“Nah.  Something more durable.  Bet we can find something on one of the bigger islands.  Or both, if you just like those immediate pictures.”  Shane doesn’t think the film will survive all that well in the heat and humidity of the islands, but he’ll give it a try.  </p><p>“The printer still works in the little office, you know.  Wonder if it’ll do pictures any justice if you can find one of those nice adventure digitals?”</p><p>Shane isn’t surprised that he finds a Tupperware bowl of chicken and dumplings in the fridge.  It hasn’t had time to get cold, not yet, so he finds a spoon.  “Not that one, but we can find something to fiddle around with.”</p><p>“You gonna trek us off to find an Office Depot somewhere?” Beth asks, amused.  She puts the book down, watching him eat with her chin propped on her hands.</p><p>“We might.”  He shrugs.  “Probably not the weirdest place we’ll ever do a supply run into.”</p><p>“I imagine not.”  Beth tucks the tourist guide into a little nook behind her seat.  “Wanna watch TV or something else?”</p><p>After the way the season ended, and Beth’s tangible concern about the storyline, Shane thinks tonight might not be the best time to take that plunge. He really wants to just go to bed, but if he retreats, she’ll worry, and he’s made her do enough of that today.  “How about we play some cards?”</p><p>The wicked grin that spreads across her face when he suggests poker tells him he’s about to face a card shark wearing the face of an angel.  After she trounces him for the third time in a row, he arches a brow.  “Who taught you to play?  Daryl?”</p><p>Beth just grins and shakes her head.  “My dad did.  We played for Skittles and M&amp;Ms, when I was younger.  No one at the prison could beat Daddy at poker.”</p><p>“Do you want to hang around here another day or two?  Some days we’ll have to plan for longer sails than others.”</p><p>“There’s seven hundred islands here, right?  We don’t have to rush through them.  Although now I understand why you didn’t make it out of the Bahamas last winter.”</p><p>“I think I know that look,” Shane says, smiling slowly.  It’s the one that had them messing around the 10,000 Islands in Florida, then the Everglades.</p><p>“We’re already in one foreign country.  Won’t hurt to try a few others, right?”  Beth smirks at him as she puts the deck of cards away.  “Avoid the bigger islands, of course, but all the little ones out there…”</p><p>“We’re only limited by hurricane season.  I don’t want to risk being stranded somewhere if we lose our boat.”  Or themselves, if the storm’s big enough.</p><p>“I don’t want to lose the Iris either.”  Beth pats the wall as if the boat is one of the dogs.  “Let’s stay a few days.  I want to practice snorkeling while we’re somewhere we know is deserted.”</p><p>Once he’s in bed, with the hatch open to enjoy the breeze a little while before he sleeps, he finds himself smiling.  Just a few hours ago, he thought he would fracture his friendship beyond repair by telling Beth exactly why he rejected her kiss.  By whatever miracle that graces his life since he trekked out on his own, she has her own way of looking at things.<br/>Shane will never be free of the tarnish of the horrible things he did after the quarry attack, but perhaps Beth is right.  All he can do is continue the choice to be a different man than the one who made those decisions.  As long as Beth’s around, he thinks he’ll have a living reminder of all his reasons to do good.</p><p>~*~*~*~</p><p>Carol looks through the latest inventory and smiles contentedly.  When she’d taken control of Grady, the hospital was starting to teeter toward failure.  They had plenty of medications, despite Dawn acting like they were preciously rare.  But food?  There were reasons for how harshly the cops treated the wards.</p><p>What better way to ration food than to make your people afraid to eat it?</p><p>Those same cops’ efforts at making the streets around the hospital safer than they once were helps Carol’s own people’s efforts.  Putting all of Abraham’s pent up need for a mission and direction toward securing the high rises and larger apartment complexes one by one is a good start.  Deemed too complicated and risky a target before, with double the able bodies on runs, they’re a wonderful source of canned foods left behind by their occupants.</p><p>“Sometimes I wonder why we left Atlanta at all,” Carol says, half to herself.</p><p>Daryl stirs from where he’s been pretending to nap on her office sofa.  “Because two hardheaded assholes thought we should check out Fort Benning.”</p><p>Ironically, none of Carol’s people ever made it to Columbus.  They do know, from some of the prison refugees, that the city and its adjacent massive military base fell.  There’s not even military salvage to make, because the leaders of the Army base were as thorough in removing themselves from the playing field as the CDC had been.</p><p>“City life not driving you crazy yet?” she asks, genuinely concerned.  Daryl’s a creature of the woods, not concrete and steel.</p><p>“Nah.  Easy enough to get to the green areas or outta the city when I need to.”  He sits up, studying her with a solemnity that tells her this nap in her office has been working up the courage to say something he thinks might be too personal.</p><p>“Sophia still doing well, going out on the hunts?”</p><p>“Her and the awkward fella both.  Carl likes the run teams better.  Think he’s trying to keep an eye on his dad.”</p><p>Rick’s been unusually quiet, retreating to that hover-in-the-background personality he had after his meltdown, where he wanted to farm and build.  He does still go on the run teams, because necessity seems to be a lure an ex-cop can’t resist.  Once his duty shifts are done, he keeps to himself, though, aside from his kids and occasionally Daryl.</p><p>“Been having nightmares,” the hunter tells her.  </p><p>Carol frowns, feeling more concern than she wants to have for Rick despite trying to forgive him for separating her and Sophia and accusing her of being a danger to his children.  She’s learning that forgiveness is easy, but forgetting?  That’s damned hard even when it's someone you care about.  “Do you know what about?”</p><p>“Hershel.”</p><p>“Oh.”  Carol has those herself, and she didn’t even see the man die.  The story from Daryl is enough to fill in the blanks for her.  “Is he talking about them to you?”</p><p>“No, and that’s why I’m worried.  He’s never been all cuddly with Judith, but she ain’t gonna miss that.  Never has.  But Carl thinks his daddy’s gonna lose his shit again, and the boy’s terrified he won’t come back this time.”</p><p>“Daryl, I don’t know that he would talk to me, either.”</p><p>“Actually, Carol, I think you’re the only damn person in this place that could crack that thick skull of his.  He feels an obligation to you that he doesn’t to the rest of us.”  Daryl stands, pacing in front of her desk.  “Need you to try, Carol, please.  Carl don’t need to lose his daddy like that.”</p><p>There’s a note of fear and unease in Daryl’s voice that strikes a chord in Carol’s heart.  “I’ll give it a try.”  In the end, no matter how much she still resents Rick, the man’s part of their family.</p><p>Daryl doesn’t move to leave, but he’s eyeing Sophia’s sketch of a daylily on the wall like it holds all the secrets to the universe.  “Something else you need to ask me, Pookie?”</p><p>“Is it a good idea for you and Joan to be sharing a bed?” he mumbles.  From this angle, she can see that the tips of his ears are flame red.</p><p>“I’m not taking advantage of her, Daryl,” Carol says softly.  “Sometimes, after someone like Gorman, you just want someone safe to erase all the memories of their touch.”</p><p>He turns, gaze searching hers.  “That’s all it is?”  </p><p>“We both have our cards on the table.  Hell, I’m pretty sure she’s gathering the courage to flirt with Tara, to be honest.”  Joan comes to Carol’s room less and less now.  Joan chooses when she visits and whether or not she stays.  Few others here truly understand exactly what sort of monster Gorman was.  Half their nights are just not being alone in the dark.</p><p>“Just worry about you.”  Daryl gives her that lopsided smile of his.  She acknowledges his worry is good to have, because Joan isn’t her first temporary bed partner to erase bad memories.</p><p>“Worry about yourself, mister.  Like when you’re going to stop mooning over Michonne and do something about it.”</p><p>The blush is pretty as it floods over his skin again.  “Ain’t like that.  Me and her are friends.  Like hanging out with Andre.”</p><p>Deciding she’s meddled enough, Carol just laughs and shoos him out of the office. He’ll figure it out eventually, either on his own or because Michonne finally has enough of waiting to seduce him herself.</p><p>She just wishes she had all of her ducklings to worry about.  Beth’s loss leaves as large a hole in their family structure as Hershel’s, maybe more so.  Hershel had a long life that had as much joy as sadness.  Beth had barely begun to live.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>While there is no condoning or excusing what happened in the CDC, Shane was not beyond redemption for it, which is hopefully what Beth gets across to him.</p><p>Just because he's not the group leader doesn't mean Rick won't land the group in a few messes in the future.  Some things just don't AU well. 😉</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Scars, Part 4 of 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A close encounter with a sea creature tests Beth's medical skills, while leading to self-imposed barriers coming down on Shane's part.  Carol seeks out Rick and reflects in the unique familial relationship between them.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Timeline Notes: Their discussion on the docks is November 25th.  Shane's POV takes place December 18th.  Beth has been traveling with Shane since October 15th.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Everything settles into their old routine for the most part after the confession on the dock.  They stay at Bimini for a few days, making a full exploration of the south and east island before trying out a few spots on the north one.  The northern island isn’t as walker free, so where they go there has to be selected with care.</p><p>Shane actually finds a water resistant camera for her in a gleaning trip through the houses nearest the marina.  His only caution is that he only found the one memory card that was in the camera.</p><p>The nature trail is easier than the Everglades, although she does get to handle a boa for the first time, when Shane finds one small enough.  Adding more bird sketches to her journal is fun, especially of the peacocks that roam the island with impunity now that there are no people to dissuade them.  Even with the camera, she’s still going to keep documenting their adventures the same way she started.  Technology can fail, but as long as she doesn’t lose the journals, she’s good.</p><p>They kayak through mangroves to reach The Healing Hole, leaving the dogs behind for that trip.  She’s getting good at navigating the smaller craft, but they have to park them and wade the final part of the journey up a clear water stream bordered with roots.  The water is warm from the spring that feeds the pool, and the whole thing is a little ethereal, the way they’re enclosed by mangroves.</p><p>“You know, one of the books I found says these islands are the mountaintops that are all that’s left of Atlantis,” Beth remarks as they reach the pool.  “This is supposed to be one of the legendary springs.”</p><p>Shane just laughs softly.  “Not exactly the most palatable of smells here, but most of the healing springs people discuss have minerals that add odor.  Got a bit of a sulphur scent to it.”</p><p>“And bugs.”  Beth grimaces, but laughs when Shane rolls his eyes at her.  Anything around mangroves is always going to have bugs.</p><p>Wading back out to where they left the kayaks is almost chilly after the warmer water of the hidden pool.  She wishes either of them knew how to scuba dive, but Shane didn’t like the idea of teaching themselves that particular skill.  Snorkeling usually keeps her entertained enough anyway.</p><p>“You ready to sail out in the morning?” Shane asks as they settle into the kayaks to cross back to where the Iris is still docked on the south island.</p><p>“Yeah.  Not much left to do but be a beach bum.”  Slyly, Beth mainly waited this long because she knew Shane was unsettled from a combination of his confession and Rick’s birthday.  That day had passed with Beth and the dogs giving Shane space to spend the day out in a kayak, just exhausting himself by hard exercise.</p><p>“You still want to go find that place from the Bond movie?”</p><p>“Yeah.  I mean, wading into walkers to find where Hemingway stayed would be the thing to really brag about, but I never could figure out why literature teachers were so obsessed with the man.  I’ll stick to being a child of the media age.”</p><p>Shane’s amused, but conversation drops off as they cross more open water.  She enjoys the burn in her shoulders, and it makes her understand why Shane wanted the rhythm of the activity the other day.  Fresh air, sun, and exercise definitely holds any depression at bay.</p><p>Getting back out into open water is starting to feel like home.  Beth wishes hurricane season wasn’t such a concern that Shane’s assured her they’ll have to move north by June.  Then again, there’s always a lot of America left to explore, right?</p><p>Exploring means increasing their likelihood of running into people, and while not all of them will be bad, Beth can’t get the Governor or Terminus out of her head.  Shane thinks finding a good community will make them safer - make her safer - but she thinks they’re better off with just the two of them.  The fact that she’s not sure he wouldn’t set out on his own afterward hovers in the back of her mind when she thinks about it.</p><p>Hopefully the islanders who survived the virus evacuated now that they can no longer import necessities from countries with more resources.  Beth thinks she could live out on the ocean for the rest of her days, if fate would just allow her.</p><p>The weeks leading up to Christmas are just spent island hopping.  They avoid the big islands, especially New Providence, because Nassau had enough of a population to still be overrun with walkers.  But there are so many places that weren’t inhabited at all before the world ended that they don’t lack places to go - or fresh fruit.  </p><p>“Can we come down here every winter?” Beth asks, sitting with her legs hanging over the side of the boat.  She has a half dozen pomegranates next to her, while she eats her fill from the one in her hand.  The dogs are all piled on the trampoline, snoozing after romping on land a bit today.  “Because all the stuff that grows down here?  That’s not going to be doing much except in Florida, if we’re lucky.”</p><p>“Like bananas and papayas?” Shane asks through the galley windows.  He’s making banana bread, with the bananas they also found.  This island had a place that was a combination produce stand, bakery, and plant nursery.  Much of their little farm is ticking along just fine without human assistance.</p><p>“Exactly.”  Beth’s fingers are stained from the pomegranate, with little drips down on her legs from where a few seeds escaped to tumble into the water.  The purply pink stain is worth getting to eat the tart fruit, even if Shane’s laughing at her through the window.  “Some things aren’t even canned fruit back home.”</p><p>“I figure we can plan on that sort of thing, as long as we can keep a seaworthy sailboat.  Eventually, even the old stashes of diesel might not be salvageable, but as long as we have sails, we’re good to get this far.”</p><p>“You ever thought about trying for Europe?” she asks after a few minutes of quietly listening to him work in the galley.</p><p>“Sometimes.  Last lab standing for a cure that we heard of was France.  But I figure if they actually managed it, whatever’s left would have scraped together something to poke around across the Atlantic.  Hell of a risky trip compared to sailing the islands like we are.”</p><p>“Yeah, I guess so.  Lot of open water, right?  And no Coast Guard or whatever to help anymore.”  They’ve seen a few official type craft, just as abandoned as police cars and military equipment back on American soil.  “Shane?  Why weren’t the smaller places safer?”</p><p>He doesn’t answer immediately, and a glance tells her he’s coming out on the deck.  Sitting beside her, he steals one of her pomegranates and deftly pops it open.  “Can’t speak for everywhere, but back home?  People didn’t want to believe it was happening, and they definitely weren’t able to put down their own family members.”</p><p>“You had to put down people you knew, didn’t you?”</p><p>“Yeah, more than a few.  The virus spread fast, and the walkers spread it even faster.  When I finally abandoned my post to get Lori and Carl out, I was the last deputy left standing, Beth.  Out of twenty-three.  Sheriff died of the virus less than three days after it hit King County.”</p><p>“Oh my God.”  Beth can’t imagine the scope of that, not happening back when everyone was confused.  It’s not like now, where everyone mostly expects their safe havens to fall to walkers.  Losing your coworkers one by one?  That’s got to be like the prison falling, as far as Beth can make an association.</p><p>Shane motions toward shore.  “Place like this?  I think it would have fallen much the same way.  There were probably survivors the first year.  There could be survivors still, just in areas we haven’t visited.  But the population was already low, so I’m not counting on it.”</p><p>“Everywhere we’ve gone is dusty,” she observes, and he nods.  She sighs and picks at her pomegranate a bit more.  “It’s sad.”</p><p>“It is.”  </p><p>They finish their fruit in silence, hanging out on the deck until the sun begins to set.  Maybe they’ll eventually run into a survivor, and as much as Beth prefers things the way they are, there’s a part of her that finds it even worse that there’s no one at all.</p><p>~*~*~*~</p><p>Everything’s been going so well that Shane gets a bit lulled in the week just before Christmas.  People and walkers, those he is always alert to, but that’s just a cop’s habit expanded to add dead folks to living ones.  What ends up getting past him is a stupid fucking accident.  He swears Biscuit and Muffin have ‘I told you so’ written across their doggie faces.</p><p>“Seriously, Shane, just stop wiggling so much,” Beth chastises him, her voice light but frustrated.  “It’s like one of those shows where they’re trying to get a thorn out of a tiger’s paw.”</p><p>The amusement behind the frustration makes him laugh ruefully.  “Sorry.  Although you digging in my calf is at least making me almost forget my arm.”</p><p>It had been an easy little adventure, snorkeling around a deserted bay.  All the time they’d swam and snorkeled, nothing bothered them, not even any of the sharks they encountered.  They’d been careful around the coral reef, even wearing swim shoes in the water.  When they’d surfaced this afternoon after Beth chased photos underwater, the danger they were in caught his eye.  What was drifting into their little spot was Portuguese man-o-war.  </p><p>Beth was closest to the impending danger, and Shane didn’t think twice before he snatched her close, flipping them in the water.  It was followed by something lancing across his bare arm from shoulder to forearm, and before his brain fully registered the lightning bolt of pain, he’d jerked right into a ridge of coral reef.  Getting to shore had been rather excruciating, but at least nothing touched Beth.</p><p>“How bad is the arm now?” Beth asks, peering up from where she’s using medical tweezers to pluck tiny bits of coral out of his flesh.</p><p>“Bearable since you stuck it in that bucket of warm sea water.”  The forearm seems to have gotten the worst of it, with a tendril wrapped around it.  Beth had rinsed and scrubbed the remains of the tendril away, layering soaking wet, warm towels over his shoulder and bicep also.</p><p>“That’s what the first aid book said to do.”</p><p>He considers teasing her with the old idea that people pee on jellyfish stings, but she just might throttle him right now if he did.  Pain lances through his leg, causing him to grit his teeth.  She’s already flushed the leg wound multiple times, including something to kill a sting that seemed an echo of the man-o-war sting.  Some of the grittiest bits are stubborn and require painstaking eviction, along with snipping away dead skin.</p><p>Breathing deeply, he makes it through to the point where she flushes the wound again.  “This is gonna make one hell of a scar,” she comments.</p><p>“I can imagine.”  Three inches of his calf laid open for the main injury that has Beth preoccupied, along with enough scrapes to look like he ran his leg over a cheese grater.  There’s a part of him that isn’t entirely sure his left forearm won’t bear a scar itself, as harshly as his skin there reacted to the venom.</p><p>“This part is gonna hurt more, I think,” Beth warns him.  </p><p>He glances over his shoulder to see her pick up the wound cleaning sponge and braces himself.  Yeah, it fucking hurts more.  More saline to flush the wound, and finally, she seems content.  Then she shaves the area around the wound, applies steri-strips, lathers on antibiotic cream, and covers it all with the hemostatic gauze he’d gathered from a military checkpoint months ago.  For once, his paranoia will be helpful, he supposes.</p><p>“Blue, green, or orange?” Beth asks, brandishing the wound wrap.  </p><p>“Surprise me.”  Shifting a little makes the pain in his arm spike up to challenge that in his leg for a moment, making him groan.</p><p>“Almost done.  Then you get inside and rinse off best you can.  Get some dry clothes on, so you can rest in bed and elevate the leg to keep swelling down.”  Her touch is firmly gentle as she wraps his calf, before she finishes by patting the back of his thigh.</p><p>Shane follows her instructions as soon as she sets him free of his spot belly down on the deck.  He doesn’t want to undo her hard work on the bandaging, so he settles for a sponge off in the sink.  Getting into any more clothing than a set of shorts isn’t happening, but he doubts it’ll bother Beth.</p><p>He’s been stuffed with painkillers and antibiotics both, and he knows that eventually, the pain med will knock him out.  Looking at her as she makes sure everything is in reach, he notices that she looks paler than usual, so he pats the bed beside him.  “C’mere, Beth.”</p><p>There’s no argument from her before she’s crawling up on his right side, but she’s hesitant in her hug until he drags her firmly against his chest.  Her arm goes around his waist, and she sniffles just a little.  “I’m okay.  You fixed it all up, and I’m damn grateful I didn’t have to turn myself into a pretzel trying to clean up my leg.”</p><p>“It was a lot of blood,” Beth mumbles against his chest.  “But I fixed it.”</p><p>“Yes, you did.”  With the things she’s seen, he can only imagine what might be lurking in her mind right now.  But he’s fine, and she’s fine, and their little pack is staring at them from his cabin door.  He supposes their wariness of water creatures is sort of justified now, although not in shark form.</p><p>“They’re floating all around us now, you know.”</p><p>Shane has a vague memory of seeing the eerily beautiful creatures in the water as Beth steered the dingy back to the Iris.  Most of his mind had been on not vomiting or passing out from the combined injuries.  “Might be a storm pushing them in.  They don’t propel themselves.  We’ll have to keep an eye out.”</p><p>“I will.  You need to sleep.”  She raises up, cupping his face and stroking his beard before leaning in to kiss his cheek.  Hovering close after, she huffs.  “Don’t scare me like that again.”</p><p>“I’ll do my best.”  They’re too close, and all the reasons he’s given himself that this is a bad idea aren’t coming to mind right now.  When he leans up just enough to brush his lips across hers, she makes a sweet sound of yearning, cupping his face firmly and returning the kiss.</p><p>But no matter how good it is, eventually they have to breathe, and instead of worried and fretful, Beth is smiling down at him.  “Did you do that to distract me?”</p><p>“A little bit.”  Shane smiles at her, tangling his fingers in her still drying blonde locks.  “But also because I wanted to.”</p><p>It’s not a near death experience, only a painful one, but it makes him realize that all the reasons he plays in his mind every night to reinforce his need to ignore her crush are pitiful ones.  She’s right that the criminal mistakes he once made aren’t ones he would do now.  No longer caught in the panic and constant threat of those early days of the apocalypse, he’s stable now.  He’s far too old for her in an ideal world, but in this world?  Age is not as significant as it once was.</p><p>Now, as Beth kisses him again and again, Shane just enjoys the thrill of finally allowing himself to want something beautiful in his life again.  </p><p>~*~*~*~</p><p>After Daryl’s request that she talk to Rick, Carol does make an effort to find the man.  He doesn’t want to be found, apparently, avoiding her even more skillfully than he dodged people back at the prison in the days after Lori’s death.  So she does what she’s good at and ambushes the man once he’s gone to sleep.</p><p>It’s not truly an ambush, because she figures out quickly that Daryl was right.  In the darkened room, Rick is in the throes of a nightmare.  She listens for a minute, drawing any clues, and thinks Daryl’s probably done the same.  </p><p>It’s a little heartbreaking to hear him call out to Hershel for forgiveness, while weeping in his sleep.  What’s worse is that she makes it to the bed without alerting him.  Either his sleeping mind somehow recognizes her as family and not a threat, or he’s somehow losing the necessary wariness to survive long in their world.</p><p>One of the things she changed was bringing in actual beds for everyone to sleep on.  As much as it seemed to be a frivolous decision, both sets of people needed that luxury to move beyond the environments they’d come from.  No one here sleeps on a narrow hospital bed reminiscent of the prison bunks.</p><p>That’s how she has room to sit on the bed next to Rick, and she calls out his name.  He doesn’t respond, so she does what she would do for Daryl or the children.  Carding her fingers through his sweaty curls, she watches his body ease out of the nightmare.</p><p>There’s enough moonlight in Rick’s room for Carol to catch the glimmer of pale eyes when he opens them.  “Carol?”</p><p>“It’s me.”  She keeps up the motion of running her fingers through his hair, gently rubbing his scalp now, too.  “You were having a nightmare.”</p><p>This is when she expects him to pull away from the comfort she’s offering.  Rick’s an expert at punishing himself, for real and perceived mistakes.  She suspects half of his inability to act as Judith’s father is guilt over the girl’s lost biological parents, not any resentment of the child herself.  He loves Judy; he just doesn’t know how to express it.</p><p>But he doesn’t pull away.  Instead, he actually scoots a little closer, pillowing his head on her thigh like he’s a child in need of comfort.  It’s not that different from what Daryl’s done many times since Merle died, when the grief and loss got to be more than he could handle on his own.  So she treats him the same way she does Daryl, with careful sisterly affection.</p><p>They’re the only adults left of the group that left the quarry in Atlanta, she and Daryl and Rick. Glenn doesn't count, as even married or not, he always feels like one of the kids to Carol, just like Beth did. Both men lost their brothers, and somehow gravitated to each other to fulfill that void.  Somewhere along the way, Carol just simply adopted them both.  She knows that’s why she didn’t kill Rick for forcing her out of her home and away from her daughter.  It’s why she forgave him.</p><p>“Do you want me to stay the night?” she asks him, leaving the curls behind to rub his back as well.  The thin white t-shirt is damp from his nightmares.</p><p>“Please.”</p><p>Getting him to roll over is easy enough, and she spoons her thin frame against his back.  With her arm over his chest, she places a hand over his heart, feeling its strong beat.  He covers her hand with his own, palm big and warm.</p><p>“Go to sleep, Rick.  I’ll wake you if you dream again.”</p><p>But she knows he won’t, because Daryl doesn’t ever wake up crying or screaming when she’s protecting his dreams like this.  This won’t solve all their conflicts of personality, she knows, and Daryl will keep getting caught in the middle of them when they clash.  But for now, for tonight, they’re just family, and there’s very little on this earth Carol won’t do to protect her family.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The romance is still slow burn to an extent, and the man is drugged and wounded, so no smutty bits. 😉</p><p>The scars theme was an arc I'd been planning a while, and one of the reasons for the Portuguese man-of-war is that their stings can scar.  It's something more visual than the leg to remind Shane his focus is staying sane and as a protector, by taking on an injury that would have scarred Beth again.</p><p>Alas, Carol's thoughts of Daryl getting caught in the middle are a little prophetic.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Anticipation, Part 1 of 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A late season tropical storm forces Beth and Shane to change their plans, and Beth finally runs out of patience with the slow burn of their new relationship.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well, dear readers, remember how I said please be patient, because this was a slow burn?  Chapter 16 has arrived, and the wait for the smutty bits is over.</p><p>As requested/suggested previously, a bikini clad Beth sets out for seduction... chapter is rated "E" for the latter half.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time Beth captains the Iris completely solo is absolutely the most terrifying and exhilarating thing she’s ever done in her life so far.  Shane had been right to tell her to keep an eye on the weather due to the man-o-war colony surrounding their boat in the little harbor.  They’re anchored on the Atlantic side of the Bahamaian island of Mayaguana, completely exposed once the storm approaches.</p><p>Shane rouses enough to try to help, but between his injuries and the significant dose of pain medication, she orders him to stay below decks.  Experienced or not, putting him on deck would be tantamount to letting a drunk driver have the keys to a car.  Maybe they won’t be endangering anyone else, but the wrong decision on the boat’s deck could kill them both.  Even as the pain meds wear off, she still doesn’t feel safe turning the boat over, not when he can barely stand.</p><p>They’ve only run the engines sparingly, conserving fuel because finding new diesel that isn’t contaminated or broken down is hit or miss.  But as the winds pick up, Beth drops the sails, starts the engines, and sets the Iris at the top speed she feels she can safely run the hardy catamaran on her own.</p><p>It takes nearly a full day even on the engines to reach what she hoped would be a safe harbor, a hundred or so miles south of Mayaguana at the Inagua Islands.  It’s still the Bahamas, but about as far south as you can get in that country’s territory.  Storm winds and unsettling waves are still battering at the sturdy catamaran, and she’s so far beyond exhausted she can’t see straight.  </p><p>They haven’t let the dogs out on deck at all, making her glad that the bathroom in the supply cabin can act as a canine potty in a pinch.  She just moved the liner from their deck tray inside.  It doesn’t stop the anxious eyes at the cabin door, staring in full canine worry at her being outside and cut off from their protective reach.</p><p>Shane convinces her to sleep for a few hours, reminding her that running the boat with the diesel engines is far different than navigating the sails.  His injured leg isn’t as dangerous sitting in the captain’s chair versus trimming sails out on the deck.  When she wakes four hours later, feeling too queasy from rough seas to sleep any longer, he pulls her into his lap as he keeps the Iris on course.</p><p>“Where are we?” she mumbles, mind more on the mug of coffee she’s liberated from his stash than navigation.</p><p>“About two hours north of Haiti at our current speed.”  He’s tense, eyes on the electronics.  “Radar’s showing we can probably clear the storm if we get south of the island or at least into the protected gulf between the two peninsulas.”</p><p>“Do we have the fuel for it?”  They do have the sails, but she hopes they don’t have to try them, not with her experience level.</p><p>“Yeah.  You did good to keep the speed under max.  It saved fuel, and the tanks had enough to give us good range anyway.  We could make the coast of South America, if we needed to.”</p><p>Staring at the radar, Beth shudders, remembering her panic when she realized what was headed for Mayaguana wasn’t a small squall that would blow through quickly.  The late season tropical storm had been unmistakable, maybe even a forming hurricane, and she’s grateful that the electronics still work so well.  “We’ve got to keep an eye on radar more, don’t we?” she asks.  </p><p>Shane sighs as he kisses her temple.  “Yeah.  It’s too easy to forget bad storms can blow up outside of the season.  I’m sorry you had to handle so much of this without me.”</p><p>The self recrimination in his voice makes her put her mug down before turning and cupping his face between her hands.  Making sure he meets her gaze evenly, she tells him, “You’re allowed to be human, Shane, and you got hurt making sure I didn’t.”  Stroking her left hand along his cheek, she leans in for a kiss, glad when he responds easily.  There had been a part of her afraid he’d get past the initial shock of his injuries and change his mind.</p><p>He doesn’t turn navigation over to her, particularly because passing between Cuba and Haiti can be tricky according to all their collected information, so she goes to make them both something substantial to eat, since they’ve been getting by on easily eaten things like sandwiches or fruit up until now.  Eventually, she gets to see her first glimpse of the Haitian coast, although most of it is obscured by the predawn hour.  By full daylight, they’re able to finally drop anchor in the Gulf of Gonâve, although they stay well away from any of the places where the settlements were.</p><p>The dogs are finally set free of the cabin, and Beth can’t settle to sleep until Shane lays down with her.  With the dogs free to roam, he seems to relax a little about being inside.</p><p>“Why are you so worried?” she asks, letting herself settle into the comforting heat of his chest as her pillow.  “You weren’t in the Bahamas.”</p><p>Shane sighs, a motion she feels more than hears.  “Bigger population here, so more potential for survivors that we don’t know the intentions of.  They were still recovering from the earthquake, though, so that’s why I aimed here instead of Cuba.  I figured if any government survived, they’re more likely to be friendly here.”</p><p>Trusting that he understands the complexity more than she does, since her main knowledge of Cuba is confusing memories from history class that involves lectures about the evils of Communism, she accepts the explanation and files it away before she finally gives in to her body’s exhaustion and sleeps.</p><p>They stay in the Gulf of Gonâve for three days, alternating between catching up on sleep and letting Shane heal a bit more.  He walks Beth through a mechanics check of the engines, considering they just put them through a massive strain compared to all their prior usage.  During that time, they don’t see any signs of other boats, or any movement at the closest shore, which Beth’s maps tell her is the island of La Gonâve.</p><p>The main change between them by him kissing her the night he was injured seems to be that occasional hugs have been replaced by regular kisses, and some leisurely makeout sessions that make Beth simultaneously confused, frustrated, and relieved that things haven’t just instantly switched to sex between them.  It’s not that she’s inexperienced, but with first Jimmy and then Zach, things had never gone beyond very satisfying third base including oral sex. With condoms in short supply and fiercely hoarded at the prison, Beth simply hadn’t wanted to clue her sister in by taking her share.</p><p>It was stupid to be so reserved about it, she knows, because she probably could have simply asked Carol for them.  The older woman would have signed them out of supply herself, and since everyone thought she and Daryl were a couple, Maggie never would have noticed.  Her sister’s tendency to act like Beth was twelve instead of nearly twenty had been frustrating in the extreme, especially considering she knows Maggie lost her virginity in the barn’s hayloft when she was fifteen.</p><p>Beth knows Shane’s vastly more experienced, thanks to Carl’s tales of the man that include a parade of short-term girlfriends, and Shane is already unsettled about the darker parts of his past and their age difference.  It’s harder for Beth to see the latter as an issue, because her father had been fifteen years older than her mother.  The extra two years between her and Shane is nothing much to worry over, in her eyes, even if her mama had been thirty when she met Hershel, not twenty.  </p><p>But if she tells him she’s never actually had sex?  </p><p>Yeah, that’ll make the man swim for Cuba and not look back, she’s afraid.</p><p>Shane’s unease about being within easy boating distance of a city that numbered close to a million inhabitants before the virus leads to them sailing west out of the Gulf of Gonâve on the twenty-third of December.  The storm is long gone, possibly dying out in the Atlantic somewhere, or maybe it’s even spun its way up the eastern coast of the States to spawn a winter blizzard.  They have no way of knowing.</p><p>“The only thing west other than Cuba is Jamaica or the Caymans,” she remarks after adjusting the sails as they need.  There’s no reason to use up more of their diesel, since if the winds stall on them, they’ll need the engine.</p><p>“Yeah.  Sailing east isn’t ideal, but we can manage.  We’ll stay in safe range of the coastline of Haiti and the Dominican Republic.  As much as you liked the Everglades, we can always see about getting off the boat a bit at Isla de Mona.  Wasn’t that in one of your tour guides?”</p><p>Beth goes and fetches her collection.  Part of their random tour of the Bahamian islands had been building this treasure trove, but sometimes she really misses the internet.  “The Galápagos of the Caribbean,” she tells him.  “Think we could make it there by Christmas Day?”</p><p>Shane chuckles, shaking his head.  “If the navigation charts are still accurate, it’s about five hundred nautical miles away.  We’ll still be in Haitian waters on Christmas, especially heading east.”</p><p>Their original plan had been to be at Turks and Caicos for Christmas, with the plan to sail to the British Virgin Islands afterward via the Puerto Rican coast.  It would have been their first really long open water sail, requiring them to work and sleep in shifts since they wouldn’t be able to anchor for at least four days.</p><p>“Oh, Jesus,” Beth breathes as they round the westernmost point of the southern Haitian peninsula.  They’re a good distance out from land as a precaution, but it doesn’t stop the shock at seeing the huge tanker ship run aground on the coastline.  Shane stands with the binoculars, studying it for a few minutes before passing them to her.</p><p>“It’s still flying a Venezuelan flag,” he informs her.</p><p>On the deck, she can see a trapped walker, but otherwise, it’s deserted like all the other abandoned boats they’ve seen since Florida.  The flag is so tattered she’s surprised Shane recognized it, so she thinks the ship’s been there a while.  Lowering her binoculars, she sighs.  “I guess we should be glad for the wildlife that it doesn’t seem to have spilled, at least.”</p><p>“There is that.”  Shane takes off his hat, running a hand through his hair and glancing back toward the west.  “You know what we haven’t seen at all?”  When Beth shakes her head, he continues.  “American naval ships.  We aren’t that far from Guantanamo.”</p><p>“Do you think the base fell?” she asks softly.  It’s one of those things they don’t think about much anymore, at least she doesn’t.  It’s been more than a year and a half.  If there was any American military left worth talking about, someone would have seen them by now.</p><p>“Probably.  I can’t see them not patrolling an area this close.  If someone got sick, got a walker on a ship, you get things like that, navy or not, I bet.”  He motions toward the desolate tanker.</p><p>With the sobering sight of the beached tanker behind them, the rest of the day is a quiet one, both of them lost in thought.  Beth doesn’t query Shane about his own musing, but hers is that she’s starting to wonder if they’ll ever see anyone else at all, no matter where they go.</p><p>On Christmas Day, they leave the boat for the first time since Shane was injured.  It’s been a full week, and the dogs are downright miserable.  All their information indicates that Grosse Cay is an uninhabited island, but they still use caution with Shane not in top form.  They spend most of the day ashore, since everyone needs time on dry land.  The temperature is in the low eighties, and Beth goes for a swim in the late afternoon before joining Shane where he’s settled in the shady spot where they ate lunch.</p><p>“How’s your leg feeling?” she asks.  They’ve got it wrapped for the excursion, so his calf is hidden behind a swath of colorful blue athletic wrap.  Tonight she’ll probably remove the stitches, because it is healing quite well.</p><p>“Better.  Wouldn’t want to hike the island, but it shouldn’t bother me later.”  He smiles at her, gaze admiring as she towels off the excess water.  There’s a heat to his gaze she’s still getting used to seeing, and she wonders if he’ll stick to that polite control he’s held onto lately if she pushes his buttons.</p><p>Instead of her more conservative tankinis or one-piece bathing suits, today Beth is wearing a blue patterned bikini that is far more daring than she’s chanced before.  The halter top isn’t all that revealing, but only because she’s small enough in the bust not to strain the fabric.  But the bottoms are a hipster cut, and they flash the bottom curve of her backside.  It somehow feels more revealing than the thong bikini she tried on before stuffing it back in the bottom of her drawer.</p><p>Figuring she’ll never know if she doesn’t try, Beth doesn’t take a seat beside him on the blanket they have spread out.  Shane is propped on his hands, long legs stretched out in front of him.  Taking advantage of him needing his hands for balance, she settles astride his lap facing him.  His intake of breath is immediate, and not just because she’s still damp from her swim, she can tell.</p><p>Holding his gaze, she reaches up to release the catches on her bikini top.  The straps fall, the fabric heavy enough with seawater to completely bare her chest.  Maybe she’s not built like Maggie, but her breasts are pretty and she knows it.</p><p>So does he, because there’s no hiding his response when the heat of her is resting against him the way it is.</p><p>“Beth.”  The way he says her voice makes her ache, because there’s so much desire and arousal in it that she can’t help but shift against him as she braces her hands on his shoulders and leans in for a kiss.</p><p>They’ve gotten heated before, backing off before things could get to any points of no return.  With his injuries still healing, she understood, but she’s sort of at the end her willingness to wait, as long as he’s willing.  There’s no rule here for them to follow, no set number of dates or time dating, and dammit, she wants to know what it’ll be like to have his hands on her bare skin.</p><p>It works, because while she’s exploring his mouth with every bit of yearning she’s had since she first noticed her interest in him, he shifts their weight to free up his hands.  It pushes her legs wider, because he has to bend his knees, and then his hands are cupping her breasts.  The whimper she makes is not sexy or dignified in the least, and she breaks away from the kiss to whisper, “Please, please don’t stop this time.”</p><p>His answer is initially a groaned repetition of her name.  “On the beach… not a good…” A rocking shift of her hips seems to make him lose his train of thought for a minute.  “Jesus, Beth, I’m not saying no.”</p><p>Pulling back enough to see his eyes, all the color is gone, their usual coppery brown a barely-there rim around blown wide pupils.  “You aren’t saying yes, either.”</p><p>“Sand is a nightmare, darlin’,” Shane manages, but his hands are still warm as he massages her breasts, thumbs finding her nipples with ease and making her gasp.  “You don’t want that, I promise.”</p><p>She doesn’t want to wait to get back to the boat, because he might want to slow things down again.  “Please?”</p><p>“Goddamn, baby, you’re enough to tempt a saint,” he growls in response to the plea, and she finds herself flipped to her back on her side of the blanket.  Her heart rate rises just enough to be thrilled and a little apprehensive when he goes instantly to her bikini bottoms, tugging them free with ease.  But he doesn’t settle over her like she expects or even remove any of his own clothing.</p><p>Instead, he hoists her legs over his shoulders, parting her thighs as she feels the unfamiliar sensation of full beard against the sensitive skin.  She forgets about things like beard burn almost instantly, because his tongue finds her folds, exploring them thoroughly until she begs for more.  Only then do his lips close around her clitoris, and she crams her own fist into her mouth to muffle a noise closer to a yelp than his name.</p><p>This might not be a new experience for her, but before, it was always rushed.  There was the risk of being caught by her disapproving father or sister, back at the farm, and at the prison, there was just so little privacy that interruptions were damn near guaranteed.  It meant attention split between her partner’s attending both his arousal and her own.</p><p>There’s no such distraction for Shane.  Every bit of his attention is on her, and when he slides two fingers inside her to stroke her as his tongue and lips continue to work, she bucks against the combined sensations.  Her climax comes fast and hard, one hand still muffling her own shout, and the other tangled in his dark curls.</p><p>Beth loses some time then, managing to open her eyes sluggishly as she feels him settle next to her on the blanket.  He’s still dressed, stretching out on his side and rubbing a hand along her bare skin.  When she reaches up to tug him down for a languid kiss, she can taste herself on him and doesn’t mind at all.  Getting up to return the favor feels damn near impossible, but he’s wearing loose board shorts meant for swimming, the kind with built in support.</p><p>It means when she slides her hand under his waistband, she’s rewarded right away, closing her hand around her prize and stroking.  He curses softly, hips thrusting lightly, before helping her adjust her grip as he tugs his shorts down to rest under his balls.</p><p>“Like that,” he tells her, voice hoarse.  “Not too tight, and not all the way back.”  It takes her a minute to realize why the adjustment.  He isn’t circumcised, so unlike when she’s done this before, there’s no need for any assistance to help with the slide.  She knows what else to do, and cupping his balls with her free hand gets exactly the response she wants.</p><p>It’s unfair that she’s naked, and he isn’t, but the soft, filthy encouragement that spills out of him makes up for it.  When his breathing starts to hitch, he claims a kiss, resting his forehead against hers as he reaches down to close his hand around hers to help.  A half dozen strokes later, he’s spilling over her fisted hand, warm droplets spattering the bare skin of her belly.</p><p>Beth isn’t sure how much time has passed before Shane moves to retrieve her towel, gently cleaning her skin between stealing small kisses.  She smiles impishly up at him.  “I thought you said no beach.”</p><p>The words make him laugh even as he returns her bikini bottoms to her.  “I said no sex on the beach.  This was a little less likely to get sand in places we sure as hell didn’t want it.”  His smile fades a little.  “Besides, I’m not going to risk getting you pregnant, Beth.”</p><p>Oh.  That makes a few things fall into place for her.  Considering how Judith’s birth turned out, she understands why he wouldn’t want to take that chance.  “That’s fine,” she tells him a little flippantly.  “Guess we’ll have to raid my stash of condoms back at the boat then.”</p><p>Collecting them had been a bit of ironic amusement, when they’d gone into residences.  Shane always passed them up, only checking bedside tables for useful things like hidden weaponry.  But on some impulse, Beth started squirreling them away in her pack.  At first, she figured they were always good for trading, if they ever crossed paths with another friendly group.  As her crush grew, she remembered all of her hesitation before Zach died and started keeping some for herself, too.</p><p>“Sounds like you’re awfully prepared,” he responds, and he grins as he helps her refasten her top.</p><p>“It’s my motto now, you know.”  </p><p>The pert answer gains her a kiss.  “I think the dogs have had enough freedom for today,” he tells her.  “Ready to go back?”</p><p>Beth glances over to where the dogs are all napping in a big heap, worn out from all their exploring.  She’d kept quiet enough not to alarm any of them, at least.  That would have been a hell of a cold shower moment, if one of the dogs had freaked out.  “Yeah.”</p><p>Shane whistles, the piercing sound he uses to summon the entire small pack.  His gaze is on the sleep clumsy puppies when he speaks, voice dropping back to that rich timbre it takes on when he’s aroused.  “They can stay in my cabin tonight, Beth.  We’ll take yours.”</p><p>The promise in his voice, and the reason for not having their constant canine companions underfoot, those are an answer to all her yearning.  There’s going no more waiting or wondering, settling for teasing kisses or simply the pleasure they just shared.  She’s not going to lose him and regret what they didn’t get to experience together.  Not this time.</p><p>Tonight.</p><p>Beth shivers with anticipation.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It's solely Beth's POV for this half, with Shane getting the next chapter for his.  As a reward for waiting an entire month for this update, part 2 will post tomorrow.  There likely won't be any updates for Carol's group at Grady until at least chapter 18, though.</p><p>I finished up another series (for those not reading the Grenade stories) to hopefully free up writing time to move things along faster, which caused things to go about a week longer than normal between posting.</p><p>Hopefully it was worth the wait. :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Anticipation, Part 2 of 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Discovering Beth's inexperience throws Shane a little, but he's not one to resist her charms for long...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Smut in the earlier part of the chapter, continued from last chapter. :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Shane shouldn’t have been surprised by Beth’s escalation of their relationship happening so quickly.  What little shyness seemed to exist in her personality when he found her in Atlanta had burned away after Terminus.  It’s part of what first engaged his attention where she is concerned, that determination to keep going and improving, as if she needs to live vivaciously to honor those who are no longer here.</p><p>Without her, he’s not entirely sure what would have happened to him after finding out his family was dead.  Logically, he knows he likely never would have known what happened to anyone without Beth’s clues to follow, but grief and logic rarely go hand in hand.  He knows that his world centers around Beth now, with or without the added dimension of sex.</p><p>Resisting a willing woman in his arms had never been a skill he’d learned, although at least he had the sense to remember they couldn’t just give into impulse on the beach.  Remembering her reaction to him between her thighs, he doesn’t think she minded his alteration of her seduction plans.  Then she informed him, chipper as always, about a stash of condoms, and he knew he’s really beyond the point of no return with her.</p><p>He was afraid promising for later would make things different between them all evening, but Beth’s relaxed and chatty, as if they didn’t fundamentally alter anything between them.  Supper is grilled wahoo fresh caught before they’d gone to the beach and stored in the galley fridge after cleaning, along with potatoes and baked squash.  They’ve replenished their food supplies as often as possible, so not going for supplies while sailing along the southern coast of Hispaniola won’t hurt them, and they’re both getting to be really skilled with making the non-perishables turn into something tasty to go alongside whatever fish they catch.</p><p>The little puppy pack is already snoozing in Shane’s cabin, bellies full of their own grilled fish.  Shane put up the baby gate, although to be honest, it wouldn’t keep the four-month-old pups confined if they don’t want to stay, but it’s a reminder… one that Muffin can clear easily if she decides to exit the room.  Biscuit is sprawled near the exterior door, snoring softly.</p><p>They’re just done eating when Beth gets that curious look he’s gotten used to.  “What are you plotting?” he asks, smiling to make sure she knows he’s teasing.</p><p>“I was just wondering… Do you think the Dominican Republic has some safe little island we can stop at like this one?  I mean, we’re already here, so it’d be fun to say I officially stood on their soil, you know?”</p><p>Shane laughs, remembering how she’d taken her camera along today to document actually being in Haiti, even if only on an uninhabited island.  She also has pictures of coastline, but he gets her point of things being different to officially walk on dry land.  “I’m sure we can find a spot somewhere to let you keep up your world traveler rankings.”</p><p>She sticks out her tongue at him before grinning and sliding along the galley bench to kiss him instead.  It’s sweet and lingering, and neither of them push it beyond a kiss right now, even though his body remembers exactly how good it feels like when she touches him.  It can wait.</p><p>Instead, they go about their night as usual.  Shane tackles the dishes while she takes the dogs out, and while she goes to take a shower, he snags her tour books and finds an answer to her question.  He can look up islands on the navigation charts, but those don’t often help on whether or not they should actually be visited.  The answer is easy enough, found in a brochure she’s collected from somewhere, so he leaves that one on the table for her to see in the morning.  There’s a pirate captain’s sunken ship there, and it’s not so deep they can’t swim down if the island’s stayed uninhabited and safe.  </p><p>“Shower’s free,” Beth calls up to him.  She’s standing at the bottom of the steps into what is more or less ‘her’ side of the Iris, with her cabin to her left and the large captain’s bathroom and office to her right.  Her hair is hidden beneath some microfiber thing she found that she swears by for helping her dry out the long blonde locks, but that’s a common enough sight for him.</p><p>What makes his mouth run dry is that she’s dressed in a green satin chemise that doesn’t cover her matching panties completely, so he gets a flash of lightly tanned skin between the garments.  He can make out the outline of her breasts under the thin fabric, nipples peaked.  Remembering how they felt to cup in his hands, he heads down to join her, resisting the urge to do more than run his hands along her bare shoulders and upper arms.  “You look perfect,” he tells her.</p><p>Her smile isn’t as impish as before, but the compliment brightens it before she helps herself to a kiss before swatting him in the middle of his chest.  “Go shower.”</p><p>Shane complies, scrubbing down quickly and wrapping a towel around his waist after drying off.  They both share this particular bathroom for the most part, because the other two cabins have wet baths, which makes showering a unique experience.  It’s easier to just share.  He has clothing stored in a bin here for after he showers, but he hesitates.  He can hear the hair dryer she rarely uses humming away, so he’s got a minute or two to think.</p><p>Beth is dressed in something pretty, a contrast to her normal oversized t-shirt and shorts she uses for sleepwear, but there’s really no equivalent for him.  He grabs a pair of boxer briefs anyway, taking them with him.  Choosing to stay in the towel was the right decision, because he can see the way her eyes linger intently where it’s hitched around his hips.  </p><p>But she looks hesitant somehow, so he sits down on the bed, watching her carefully where she’s standing near the tiny closet, wrapping the cord to store her hair dryer away.  Her blonde hair, now bleached to an almost impossible shade of pale gold by sea and sun, frames her shoulders and contrasts with the emerald green of her chemise.</p><p>“We don’t have to do anything but sleep, Beth,” he tells her.  As much as what they started on the beach makes him wonder about more with her, he’s not crossing that line until she’s ready.  With his past, he’s following her lead here.</p><p>His words don’t reassure her, though.  “I haven’t changed my mind,” she assures him before coming to sit beside him.  Her touch is gentle as she runs a hand across his chest.  “You stopped shaving or whatever.”</p><p>It’s not what he expected, and that makes him laugh.  “Well, it would have been a little weird to keep that up and not the rest.”  He motions to his hair and beard.  Both had been a bit of a mess, like some stereotype of a mountain man far from civilization, until the necessity of being around saltwater had driven him to trim the beard and let her cut his hair.  But he knows his particular dedication to that level of grooming was popular in his days of sleeping around.  “Is that a bad thing?”</p><p>“No.  I mean, it’s not like I haven’t seen you shirtless before, but I guess it was just something weird that popped in my head just now.”  Beth giggles softly.  “Probably because you won’t run away if I do this.”  She curls her fingers just a little, catching them in his chest hair.  It’s not a significant amount, which was actually why he started removing it back in college when he developed extra muscle definition, just a dusting of dark hair along his breastbone and across the tops of his pecs.</p><p>She follows it lower, though, to the silky fine trail along his abdomen, causing him to groan just a little as she reaches his navel.  That gets her to look up from her exploration, the hesitation gone as she looks at him.  “You know, it is Christmas,” she says, mischief dancing in her blue eyes.  “And now I have a present to unwrap.”</p><p>The playful banter gets them past the newness of this just enough for her to get his towel free.  He eases back on the bed, letting her continue her curious path along his body. Every part of him likes her touch, and he’s hard and aching by the time she eases back up the bed, straddling his hips like she had earlier on the beach.  The difference now is that there’s only the barest scrap of satin between her and him, so he can feel the heat of her completely.  She’s aroused, soaking through her panties already as she leans over him for a kiss.</p><p>“Let me see you,” Shane asks, reveling in the feel of her against him.  Beth sheds the chemise as easily as she did her bikini top earlier.  He’s not surprised this time, and he slides his hands up to stroke the soft mounds of her breasts.  “God, you’re gorgeous.”</p><p>For some reason that makes her blush.  “Yeah?  You think so?”</p><p>Christ, he’s lost his touch if she doesn’t understand that.  “I do.  Gonna show you.”  Rolling them so that she’s the one on her back, he does what he didn’t on the beach and lays a trail of kisses along her throat and chest, claiming one nipple with his mouth as the other hand first tweaks the other breast before sliding down her flat belly to cup her heat through her panties.  She cries out his name, bucking into his hand, but he keeps it slow and teasing.</p><p>They have plenty of time, after all, and she’s so fucking responsive to his touch that he can’t wait to find out everything that makes her ache for him.</p><p>When he moves to the other breast, nipping lightly, he slides his hand inside her panties instead, finding her as wet and ready as she’d been earlier.  Flicking his thumb along her clitoris, he eases two fingers inside her.  It’s a tight fit, almost worryingly so, which leads him to scissor his fingers as he strokes.  Just like earlier, it doesn’t take her long to gasp out his name, clamping around his fingers fiercely as her body reaches a climax. It makes him wonder just how many times he can bring her over the edge.</p><p>While she’s still wiggling a little, making the same little happy sounds that nearly made him forget himself on the beach, he eases down the bed.  Her thighs are still a little reddened from earlier, the sensitive skin definitely not used to contact with his beard.  When he spreads her legs wider, she blinks up at him before reaching for the bedside table.</p><p>“Not yet,” he tells her, patting her knee before stroking his hands along her thighs to brush against neatly trimmed curls.  A little furrow appears between her brows until he lowers himself to the mattress, sliding her legs back over his shoulders before lowering his head to taste her again.</p><p>It turns out two orgasms are definitely in Beth’s range, and she gets profanely demanding if he draws it out too long.  Amused, he watches her sprawl bonelessly on the bed while he opens the drawer she’d started to access earlier.  It’s well organized, with the condom packets in a small basket amid other things she has stored.  By the time he’s gotten a packet open and the latex rolled down his length, she’s reaching for him, her hand drawing lazy circles on the small of his back.</p><p>Once Shane is nestled between her thighs, he teases her, leaning on his right arm while rubbing just the tip of himself against her over sensitive folds.  “Not too much?”</p><p>Beth shakes her head, blonde hair in a tangled halo around her head on the pillow.  Shane leans in for a kiss, drawing it out as much for himself as her.  He’s probably not going to last long, because Beth’s hand around him earlier is the first time he’s been touched like that by anyone else since the farm.  Reminding himself that they have all the time they want nowadays, and that they’ll get this more than just tonight, he starts to ease himself inside her.</p><p>She is almost impossibly tight around him, making him hesitate when he’s only halfway.  Her expression shifts as she makes a small gasp that sounds more distress than delight. “Beth?”</p><p>He definitely doesn’t mistake the guilty look that crosses her face, and he sighs, dropping his head to her shoulder as he tamps down on his own arousal.  But when he starts to withdraw, she shifts, locking her legs around his thighs and grabbing his waist with both hands.  He groans in frustration.  “It doesn’t hurt. Just feels really weird,” she tells him.  “Go slow, maybe?”</p><p>The lack of confidence in her voice for the last suggestion confirms his suspicions.  “You haven’t done this before,” he mutters against her shoulder before raising up to gaze down at her.</p><p>“Not this, no.  Everything else up to this.  But I want to, with you.”</p><p>Shane is tempted to refuse, because he doesn’t like that she didn’t tell him, but at the same time, he never fucking asked, did he?  He just assumed, because she’d spoken of boyfriends, and she hadn’t been shy earlier on the beach.  Careful to keep his movement slow, he slides himself inside her little by little, working back and forth to let her adjust.  Once he’s fully seated, he stills, nuzzling kisses along her throat until she tells him to move.</p><p>His self prediction that he won’t last long proves true, especially once her body adjusts around him.  Beth soon starts panting these soft little ‘ohs’ that make him groan and try for control, but when she lets her feet drop back to the mattress and tilts her hips so she can meet him move for move, he’s gone, lost in the feel of her as his hips stutter in a few final strokes.  The feel of her caressing his back even after he’s stilled rouses him from the whited haze of his climax.  </p><p>He eases a hand down, aware that she didn’t finish when he did, but she stops him, slender fingers wrapping around his wrist.  “I’m good,” she tells him.  Her voice is soft and throaty, almost a purr.  “Too sensitive right now for more.”</p><p>“You okay?”  Overstimulation he understands, but he has to clarify.</p><p>She’s smiling up at him, so he probably has his answer there.  “Yeah.”  The hand still on his back stills as she bites her lip.  “You aren’t mad?”</p><p>Shane shakes his head, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips and easing his weight off her.  As much as he’d like to stay close, certain things have to be taken care of.  Once the condom is in the small trash bin in her cabin, he returns to the bed.  The hesitant look from when he first came into the cabin is back, and he doesn’t like it one bit.</p><p>“No, I’m not mad,” he replies, hoping to further soothe her worries with a verbal reply.  To emphasize the point, he takes the spot beside her, pulling her into his arms.  She relaxes against him almost immediately, and it makes him want to preen a bit that she’s so comfortable with him.  “But I could have hurt you.”</p><p>Christ, if he hadn’t wanted to tease her, to see if he could bring her to a second climax, he really could have.  He knows most of the virginity emphasis is myth, at least from listening to various stories girls told around college, but the one thing that was in every bad story that got told?  Impatient guy and not enough foreplay.  </p><p>“It didn’t hurt,” she reassures him.  “It was just something I wasn’t used to yet.”  Then she yawns against his chest, giggling softly.  “And it wasn’t boring.”</p><p>That makes Shane laugh.  “Glad you clarified that.”  </p><p>Beth’s voice is barely audible when she speaks again.  “It wasn’t bad for you, was it?”</p><p>“Hey, Beth, look at me.”  She tilts her head up, and he can see the worry even as she tries to hide it.  “It was good.  It’ll be better the next time and even more the next time.  It’s always different or even awkward at first, even without that as a factor.  We just gotta find out what works together.”</p><p>“Is that a practice makes perfect speech?” she asks, the worry fading completely as she arches a brow.  “Because I’m not gonna complain about… practice.”</p><p>Shane agrees with her, especially as she bribes him with short, teasing kisses.  “Let’s save that practice for tomorrow.  Get some sleep so we can go off on your next big adventure I’ve found for you.”</p><p>Content with that, Beth slides the sheet up to cover them, and the rocking of the boat in the water sends her off to sleep quickly.  Shane stays awake longer, just enjoying the softness of her tucked against him.  He can’t remember the last time he slept next to a woman like this, but it had been long before the world turned upside down.</p><p>She may not think it was important, what she shared with him, but it is.  He’s always thought guys being obsessed with virgins was the stupidest thing ever, because a smart man should prefer experience.  Part of him still holds that wariness of being someone’s first like this, but it’s simply uneasy memories that try to compare this with her to the first woman he ever slept with.</p><p>But Shane isn’t Beth’s teacher, and Beth has had years to mature beyond being a naive sixteen year old kid.  Even as the guilt tries to sour this for him, he pushes it away.  He’s not Mrs. Kelly, preying on a string of young football players and getting bored of them once they lost the initial lure of clumsy innocence.  If his fuck ups between the quarry and the farm didn’t ruin this for him, he sure as hell isn’t going to let the teenage ones do it.</p><p>Mind more at ease, he lets sleep claim him, too.</p><p>Practice is definitely what they do.  Beth’s insatiably curious about just about everything they can do together, and he almost wonders if he should look for a stash of Cosmopolitan magazines or something similar; those things women always liked with lists of things to try with a lover.  But he doesn’t, because honestly, if she wants to explore and experiment, he’s sure not arguing with how it benefits him.</p><p>The little hedonistic delays mean it takes them ten days to reach Isla de Mona, because he’d also been right that Beth would enjoy the <i>Quedagh Merchant</i> shipwreck off the Dominican Republic coast.  They spend a week exploring the sanctuary on Isla de Mona, mostly because Beth finds turtle nests there.  She can’t resist trying to see if any hatch.</p><p>“It’ll be easier for them now, won’t it?” she asks Shane when their waiting finally gets lucky.  “Most of the danger is from people and their things.”  The tiny turtles stream toward the water, awkwardly poetic in their movements.</p><p>“I would think so.  I’m guessing our pollution will be around a while, especially in the water, but at least nothing more is being added.”  The grounded tanker comes to mind, and who knows if offshore drilling rigs were shut down properly or those safety measures will hold.</p><p>Beth stands from where she’s been checking the sand for any remaining eggs, dusting off the knees of her pants.  “Want to go hunting again?  The dogs really liked the pork.”</p><p>The wild pig they’d hunted to give Beth actual experience versus target shooting had been a nice change from fish, seafood, and whatever canned products they have, so Shane agrees easily.  He suspects without a hunting season, the pigs, goats, and wild cats will probably overrun the place before dying off themselves.  The island’s terrain is challenging, and he’s enjoyed following Beth around as if she was part goat, chasing iguanas and exploring caves as far as she dares.  It also makes a wonderful training ground for a novice hunter, and he wishes they could store meat, since hunting for sport seems too wasteful.</p><p>They sail for the main island of Puerto Rico on the twelfth, making the crossing to the British Virgin Islands four days later.  It’s probably the toughest sail they’ve ever attempted, the trade winds determined to return them to Puerto Rico.  Beth jokes the wind knows they’re Americans without passports after the weather sends them back a third time to wait to try again.  They’d even risked a deserted marina to see if it had safe diesel and topped off their tanks.  But finally, everything aligns as best as it can, and they put the extra fuel to use to help their sails.  They’re exhausted when they drop anchor in the Bight at Norman Island.</p><p>Beth flops onto the trampoline after letting the dogs out.  All five of them are distinctly peeved at their people, probably remembering the tropical storm all too well.  She giggles when even Biscuit won’t come cuddle with her.  “Now I know why the logs say be as far east as possible by Christmas,” she declares.  “This was almost as bad as the storm.”</p><p>“I’m guessing we aren’t headed out to go snorkeling in the caves just yet,” Shane teases.  He’s scanning with the binoculars, but so far, he’s seen nothing moving that doesn’t classify as wildlife.  The island isn’t officially inhabited, but it did have a few restaurants to cater to sailors such as themselves.  Beth picked it because it’s supposed to be one of the inspirations for the novel, <i>Treasure Island</i>.  </p><p>He’s hoping the workers for the restaurants headed to wherever they call home when the virus hit, or if they’re lurking, they’re at least friendly.  The floating restaurant seems deserted, although there’s a walker tangled in something on the deck.  Only small movements show it’s still potentially mobile, he makes a mental note that if everything stays quiet, they might check the place for supplies and put the poor bastard down.</p><p>Beth’s hand closes around his ankle, stroking the bare skin above his sock.  Her wandering fingers find the lower edge of the fresh scar on his calf as she eases her hand up the pant leg.  The scarring there and on his left forearm seem to fascinate her.  “See anything?”</p><p>“A few loose goats.  I swear, someone turned loose goats everywhere down here once upon a time, didn’t they?”  Shane drops the binoculars to his chest and kneels down to join her when she tugs on his pants.  As tired as she seems, the kiss she initiates is borderline frisky, as her hands explore under his shirt lazily.  Just when he’s starting to think it’s going somewhere, she giggles and rolls to her feet.</p><p>Stripping her sailing clothes away piece by piece, she’s nude on the deck, standing glorious in the late afternoon sunshine as she backs away.  At first, he thinks she’s headed toward the cabin, but then once she’s halfway there, she changes directions, running to cannonball off the Iris into the crystal clear blue waters of the Bight.  There’s enough splash to send water onto the deck, scattering the dogs.  Laughing, he looks over the side to see her treading water, grinning up at him.</p><p>“C’mon.  Water’s nice.  Birthday suit preferred.”</p><p>That’s not an invitation Shane needs to be given twice.  Whatever higher power sent him to that specific veterinarian’s office in Atlanta that specific day, he can only thank them as he strips down to bare skin and dives into the warm, tropical water to join his joyful, happy lady.  Everything about his life is better with Beth in it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The shipwreck mentioned actually exists, although how widely known it would have been in 2010 when the ZA happens, I don't know.  It was released from being studied in 2011 after being discovered in 2007, off the coast of Catalina Island in the DR.  Nowadays, it is a living museum that is open for tourists to scuba dive through.</p><p>Isla de Mona is in the middle of one of the trickier sea passages, where boats either sail easily or complain it was windy hell.  It is a sanctuary for hawksbill sea turtles and home to some flora species only found in Puerto Rico.</p><p>I couldn't resist choosing Norman Island for their BVI destination, for obvious reasons.  There really is a floating bar/restaurant called Willy T's there, where it's a tradition for patrons to jump from restaurant into the water.</p><p>Future chapters will skim over some of the islands to reach a specific destination.  If you like hints:  Beth wants to see a volcano... up close.  A major change approaches for our travelers...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Promise Kept</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Shane and Beth discover why they've found no signs of survivors in the Caribbean so far...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>By the end of January, Beth and Shane have added more islands to her imaginary passport.  They spent a couple of days in the British Virgin Islands before heading for their American counterpart to the south.  Timing the crossing to Anguilla took the same finesse as getting from Puerto Rico to the BVI did, but by now, Beth’s feeling less of a sailing apprentice and more like she could truly captain the Iris.</p><p>The shared island of St. Martin and Sint Maarten, and later St. Barts, are all lovely when they venture further southeast, and when they risk a marina landing on Sint Maarten, Shane looks a little troubled.  </p><p>“What’s bugging you?” Beth asks, although she thinks she knows.  There are no signs of walkers here at all, and her little tour guide books say that Sint Maarten should have had about forty thousand residents.</p><p>Shane sighs, looking around a place that looks like it ought to be out of one of those movies where people just poof and disappear, like a religious Rapture or alien abduction.  “I know a lot of places evacuated, if they could and had time.  But I’m wishing I’d checked the bigger islands now.  Took the risk to see more.”</p><p>“Maybe their government shipped them all away?” she suggests.  “Just because our government screwed it all up, doesn’t mean the rest were just as bad.  This place was Dutch, right?”</p><p>“South part of the island, yeah.  Northern two-thirds was French.  It just adds to the oddity.  We haven’t seen any large ships anywhere, and the only boats in the marina are those with no sails.  The virus did break out around the time most sailboats have to head out of the Caribbean to keep their insurance, but it’s just weird that none of the ones who would have lived here full time are around.”</p><p>Beth studies the few boats in the marina.  The Iris’s masts stand out like a beacon among the sport fishing boats.  “Guess we should explore then.”</p><p>Later, they do find evidence that the island didn’t fully evacuate, because what they’re on is a peninsula of sorts.  Whoever had survived long enough to keep the area around Simpson Bay clear had raised the lift bridges to prevent any access from the more populated areas.</p><p>“Jesus Christ,” Shane mutters, staring out at the clusters of walkers roaming the streets.</p><p>“Would’ve been nice, to not see any, that maybe more people got to safety somehow, wouldn’t it?” Beth tells him, moving to wrap her arms around his waist.  The sight bursts the carefully protective bubble they’ve managed to be in by avoiding any island with a large enough population for a sight like this.  “Maybe we just find one of the little islands and set up camp like the Swiss Family Robinson,” she suggests.</p><p>Shane presses a kiss to her temple and laughs softly, although there’s none of his usual humor.  “Eventually, you’d get sick of just me for company, darlin’, that I can promise you.”</p><p>They return to the boat, but only after a check of enough of the buildings to at least give them some hope.  Not everyone on this part of the island died, because things have been stripped pretty clean.  Somewhere, people did survive, at least for a little while.</p><p>With that hope in mind, they continue to St. Barts.  A landing there shows them a similar pattern of an isolated area on one part of the island with trapped walkers.  Like Sint Maarten, there’s no signs of any living human beings in the deserted area.</p><p>“Maybe they evacuated to something less populated?”  It’s a puzzle Beth can’t yet figure out.  The Caribbean is a hodgepodge of independent nations and islands still subject to other larger countries, but she thinks that if they circled back to the populated areas of St. Martin and the British Virgin Islands, they might find the same pattern.</p><p>Shane’s studying the map of the islands south of them.  “You know, just because we haven’t seen any sign of the U.S. Navy, it doesn’t mean the other nations abandoned their people out here.  But they don’t have the number of ships the Americans put out here, so finding them could be a needle in a haystack.”</p><p>“If people died of the virus down here at the same rate as they did in Georgia, they really could evacuate all the survivors, right?”</p><p>He nods.  “I have no idea what the true survival rate was, because even those of us who never got sick didn’t make it for other reasons.  But if people had a military that didn’t fall or turn on them…”   </p><p>“Then there’s a community around here somewhere, right?” she asks hopefully.  Remembering Woodbury and Terminus, she feels a trickle of fear along her spine, but then she reminds herself that the prison wasn’t like that.  Good people still exist.  She and Shane are proof of that.</p><p>“I think so.  I mean, a good Naval ship could make the Atlantic crossing and take survivors home, but why risk it?  Like you suggested about us finding a deserted island and taking up residence, maybe they did the same, or took over one of the smaller populated islands, depending on how many survivors they needed.  It would explain the missing supplies in the safe zones.”</p><p>“Next closest island is Saba.  I think those journals I found said it had less people than my hometown did,” Beth contributes, going to find the stack of personal journals she collected from abandoned boats back in the Bahamas.  Sometimes these records are even better than the official guides and charts, because they have unique impressions from people who sailed the seas they’re in, versus governments trying to bring in tourism income.</p><p>“Saba it is.  If there’s no one there, at least you can have some fun exploring, right?” Shane grins, and Beth sticks her tongue out at him.  </p><p>The fact that the island in question was partially a marine preserve is a point of interest for her.  She has no interest in the ghost towns or walker infested places people used to inhabit.  It’s easier to focus on the wildlife and plants that are recovering their places in the world now that humans aren’t constantly fighting back.</p><p>Fort Bay Harbor at Saba doesn’t have a marina, just a secluded strip of moorings on the more sheltered western side of the island.  Massive cliffs tower over them, and Beth gets her camera out as soon as they’re safely moored.  “Oh my God, it’s gorgeous,” she breathes out, making Shane laugh.</p><p>Once the dogs are let out of the cabin, Shane settles in the captain’s chair and does something they haven’t once attempted since boarding the Iris the first time.  He signals the harbor office on the radio’s VHF band.  As expected, there’s no reply, but he shrugs.  “I’ll try again before we go ashore in the dinghy.  Even if there’s people here, they might not have someone babysitting a radio.”</p><p>They take time to eat lunch and change into shore gear, which means they’re still in the cabin when the radio crackles to life.</p><p>“American vessel Iris, this is Sergeant-Majoor Luuk Janssen of the Royal Netherlands Navy.  I am on the civilian sailing vessel Sharlou on patrol just off the coast of Sint Eustatius.  Are you seeking asylum from the dead?”</p><p>Wide-eyed, Beth freezes at hearing the first human voice that isn’t Shane’s since that awful, horrible woman at Terminus.  He pulls her in for a hug.  “Do we trust them?” he asks softly.  “If he’s truthful, we’re far enough away to be gone before they can get here.”</p><p>Beth likes that he’s not just making the decision for them, and she thinks it over.  “I think that I can’t live with thinking everyone is like the Governor,” she admits.  “Maybe we should take the chance.”</p><p>Pulling back to study her expression, he nods after a moment of seeing how serious she is.  “Can’t say it hasn’t worried me, that something might happen to one of us on our own like this.”</p><p>She knows the unsaid part of that is that he worries about her ending up alone, more than himself, so she cups his face and kisses him gently before nudging him toward the radio.  It’s time they took a chance on someone other than just each other.  Drawing on every last ounce of faith her father instilled in her that people will be good if they can, Beth listens as a short conversation on the radio changes everything for the pair of them.</p><p>~*~*~*~</p><p>Shane just about crawls out of his skin during the wait for the Dutch sailed vessel to make it to Saba’s little harbor.  He understands the security of the unknown man telling them to stay put while the Sharlou sails to them, but it doesn’t make him feel any better.  Beth’s tales of the prison’s fall and then what he saw at Terminus lurks in the back of his mind too clearly.</p><p>The Sharlou dwarfs the Iris, which isn’t exactly a tiny vessel for its class.  The Sergeant-Majoor greets them kindly enough from the other boat’s deck, along with introducing all of the six-person crew he has with him.  He also introduces the vessel’s canine mascot, a massive black Labrador named Ella.  Only one other crewman is a Dutch sailor, with the remaining five a mixture of Caribbean islanders, one of them a former police officer from St. Kitts, Avarinda Williams.</p><p>It’s the last that asks to board the Iris, and she smiles gently at the relief on Shane’s face that it’s one of the two women being sent to join them.  Avarinda is a tall woman, nearly Shane’s height, with gleaming dark skin and shoulder length braids.  Like the others on the Sharlou, she’s dressed for sailing, and tells them they’d been at Sint Eustatius to scavenge.  “You aren’t the first refugees we’ve found who were wary of the men or the military, although you are certainly the sailors the farthest from your original home that we’ve seen that weren’t living aboard a boat beforehand.”</p><p>It makes sense, as Shane doesn’t think most Americans would retreat to the Caribbean, and honestly, if he and Beth had been reliant solely on engines to cross the water, he wouldn’t have attempted it at all.  He hadn’t gone south of the Bahamas before on his own.</p><p>“We lost our people in attacks by outsiders,” he explains, watching as compassion settles as Avarinda’s dominant expression.  Just because he hadn’t been with Beth when that happened didn’t change the reality of what occurred.</p><p>“Well, I can’t say that’s an impossibility where we’re going, but we’ve been safe for nearly two years now.  We don’t just rely on the sea to keep us safe, either,” she tells them, her accent holding that slight inflection Shane associates with British-settled Caribbean islands.  She doesn’t elaborate on that, but everyone on the Sharlou is armed the same way as Beth and Shane.</p><p>It takes eight days to sail the four hundred or so nautical miles between Saba and Montserrat.  Avarinda fills them in on the surviving community in between helping them with the Iris.  The reason for the mixed crew on the Sharlou is as simple as can be expected in their world.  All seven people were those who already knew how to sail before the world ended, and only those willing to learn to fight walkers are permitted to leave the safe haven on such vessels.</p><p>“I know it seems counterproductive, to choose the one island with an active volcano that once caused two-thirds of its people to evacuate,” Avarinda explains.  “But it meant that of the islands with reliable infrastructure, it had the lowest population.  With only basic hospital services, the majority of the Montserratians were evacuated to St. Kitts and Nevis, leaving less than five hundred people on the island.”</p><p>She goes on to explain that of those, only ninety survived the initial viral outbreak, and twenty-three more died in the early days of not understanding how to put down walkers.  The sixty-seven Montserratians are the largest single nationality in the settlement in the town of Brades, which has the almost unfathomable population of just over seven hundred people.  There are survivors in other locations on Montserrat as well, in smaller numbers, bringing the island’s current population to nearly a thousand people collected from safe pockets all over the Caribbean like the ones Shane and Beth found on Sint Maarten and St. Barts.</p><p>He’s glad of the warning that the Naval ships sent to the Caribbean by the respective sovereign states in Europe for hurricane support had shifted their orders to providing what support they could for the islanders, because otherwise, seeing the two behemoths anchored west of Montserrat would have been like being transported into different world.  One ship is the Dutch vessel that Luuk Janssen arrived in the Caribbean on.  The other is a British vessel, too big and sluggish to be anything more than a hulking guardian of the island and its survivors now.</p><p>“The smaller British ship sailed for France as an escort to the French ships,” Avarinda explains.  “They debated for days over disobeying their last orders, which were to stay and support the British here in the islands.  In the end, the captain decided learning something was better than the potential for punishment.  The French government thought they had a solution, and we needed that here.”</p><p>“Did they?” Shane asks, remembering Jenner’s rambling tale that he thought the crazy bastard may have imagined.</p><p>“We don’t know.  We lost contact with them after they reached the coast.  Ham radio is never as reliable as satellite communications, and whatever controlled the satellite services went down with the rest of civilization.”</p><p>That’s a skill Shane will have to learn, because the ham radio on the Iris wasn’t something he or Beth really fiddled with.  If they had, they might have overheard transmissions from the Caribbean survivors as small sailing vessels scavenged and looked for any stray refugees like Shane and Beth.</p><p>Avarinda directs them to a slot in the marina, and Shane’s relieved to see that the Iris isn’t the only catamaran docked at the section for smaller vessels.  The Sharlou will dock elsewhere, its length requiring more open water for maneuvering to dock, once it returns from finishing the scavenging expedition it returned to after delivering Avarinda to the Iris.  The marina is a new one, built by joint efforts of Navy and islanders, because Montserrat only had the basic docking facility for the massive ferry boat and cargo delivery vessels before.</p><p>“Policy here is that those who arrive on their own boats keep them, Deputy Walsh.  You and Beth will be given the choice to live aboard the boat or to be assigned quarters on shore.”</p><p>“And are we required to stay here permanently?” Beth asks, sounding a little suspicious.</p><p>It earns her another of those endless kind smiles Avarinda has been gifting them both with since she came aboard.  “No, you are not.  Even if you took up some sort of piracy among a larger foreign group we’ve somehow missed, attacking this island would not be worth the reprisals our looming guardians would visit upon such acts. If you decide to stay, you will need to contribute to the community in some way, but this is not a prison colony.”</p><p>Considering the majority of the survivors here have ancestors stolen away from Africa and transported here as slaves, Shane imagines the very idea is abhorrent to them.  Her assurance proves true, because after being led to a central building, island residency is offered to them both after medical exams and thorough interviews with a committee of three people who report to the island’s Governing Council, which consists of the captains of both Naval vessels and four surviving governmental officials from the various islands.  </p><p>Even the dogs are given a thorough physical by a cheerful veterinary technician who apologizes that he’s not a fully qualified veterinarian.  The young man asks them to consider allowing the males to breed with dogs already on the island, which is an understandable request.  Canines are too useful to allow the species to die out, and Ella’s presence on the Sharlou is a common one for the scavenging vessels as a backup to lesser human senses.</p><p>They return to the Iris to find a cluster of boxes waiting for them on the dock, set politely near the Iris without accessing the vessel.  Avarinda is still acting as a combined escort and tour guide, so she explains the allotment of supplies.  “I know you two have plenty on board, even after hosting me for days, but each new resident is entitled to their welcome package.  If you stay, you’ll have to pick up each week’s allotment at the commissary.”</p><p>“When do we need to decide?” Beth asks, hopping onto the Iris and taking the first box Shane passes to her and setting it on the exterior table.</p><p>“You have two weeks grace period to decide if the community is suited for you.  After that, if you choose to leave, you can visit at any time, but you’ll need to check in and out like customs in the old world.”</p><p>Shane doesn’t think two weeks will change his inclination to stay, not after seeing an actual damned hospital and school, and learning that the utilities are in full service, even if electricity is limited as the combined efforts of Navy personnel and mechanically inclined residents try to convert the diesel powered facility to something sustainable now that they’ve lost access to indefinitely importing petroleum products.</p><p>Before the two Naval ships were anchored semi-permanently at Montserrat, both captains had scavenged abandoned ships from all over the Caribbean, siphoning off fuel and treating it for long-term storage.  Neither of the men wanted to continue to burn through it at the rate that the big ships required, so after nine months, they’d switched to only using smaller vessels, and only those with sails after a year had passed since the outbreak.  </p><p>Their early salvage operations are why Shane and Beth didn’t see any larger vessels like abandoned cruise ships in their travels.  Once they stripped such a ship of all of its useful supplies, the Naval personnel had simply run them aground off the coast of South America as giant cemeteries of dead tucked into cabins as if simply sleeping.  Far enough away not to draw unwanted attention to Montserrat, yet close enough if the survivors need to salvage more from the ghost ships’ actual physical structures.</p><p>Avarinda bids them farewell after helping them move the boxes to the Iris, telling them she’ll meet them after breakfast tomorrow for a guided tour.  Beth pokes through a few boxes half-heartedly before tucking herself against him.  “It’s too damn surreal,” she tells him.</p><p>Shane agrees.  There’s a mental dissonance after so many months in ruined and abandoned Georgia, her living in a broken down prison and him moving between abandoned areas as the whim took him.  “I’m just glad we’ve been sailing a while.  Makes this feel more normal than it would have if we’d been plucked right out of Atlanta or something.”</p><p>“No kidding.”  Beth giggles softly, but then she sighs.  “I can’t believe our government ordered our military to abandon us.”</p><p>That had been a bitter pill to swallow, but not unexpected after what Shane witnessed at the hospital where Guardsmen slaughtered staff, visitors, and patients alike.  The lack of U.S. Naval ships wasn’t due to them falling to the virus like the cruise ships had, or even losing nearly half their crews like the Dutch and British ships had.  No, someone higher up had ordered the entire U.S. Naval presence on the Eastern Seaboard and the Caribbean to retreat to the Pacific.  The interview committee hadn’t hidden their disapproval of the largest Navy in the area abandoning not just their Caribbean interests, but their own damned national capital.</p><p>Shane doesn’t think he could stand sailing past Jacksonville or Norfolk after hearing those disapproving words from the elderly politician from Puerto Rico.  The woman had been pissed, even nearly two years later, about being abandoned by what was at least nominally her own government.  The fact that other governments hadn’t?  Shane understands why they were told that the fifty or so American citizens here don’t cluster into any sort of expat neighborhood together, but blend into others instead.</p><p>The vindictive part of Shane hopes that karma visited those who made those decisions with vicious consequences.  There were other Navies in the Caribbean and the Gulf of Mexico, such as the Columbians and the Mexicans, but those had at least fallen to the virus while trying to keep their own people safe.  They’d honored their duty to their citizens, and many died because Navy ships are almost as hellish as cruise ships when a virus tears through the occupants.</p><p>“I wish I was surprised,” Shane tells her.  “But maybe they did survive better out west, somehow.”  He can’t imagine the congested, overpopulated states on the west coast being any better off than Georgia had been, or from what Avarinda told them happened on larger populated islands like Cuba and Jamaica, but the average survivor deserved more help than they got in the eastern United States.</p><p>“Maybe.”  Beth lets him go after a tender kiss and eyes the boxes again.  “I’ll tackle those tomorrow, after I’ve slept on the idea of where we’re going to be living.”</p><p>“Oh?” Shane asks, keeping his tone teasing and light.  “You’re deciding that part?”</p><p>Beth smirks at him and huffs.  “Like you care if we live on the Iris or in one of those cute little apartments like Avarinda has, long as me and the dogs are there.”</p><p>It’s true enough, so he concedes the point.  The day’s been an overwhelming one, and they do have a lot to consider that doesn’t have to be decided tonight.  For now, at least, they go to bed in the captain’s cabin, letting the motion of the waves rock them to sleep.</p><p>Shane does have one last thought, as Beth gives out one of those tiny little snores she makes sometimes and shifts to burrow further into his chest, that he thinks he’s finally kept his initial promise to himself to find her somewhere safe to live.  It took four months to do so, and a trip he never would have considered back then as the solution, but so much has changed between them that there’s one thing about that promise he doesn’t intend to keep.</p><p>Back then, he intended to find her a safe haven and walk away.  That’s sure as hell not happening now, not as long as this whimsical, loving woman wants him right here, arms around his middle as if she’s protecting him from the world as much as he protects her.  She’s the center of his world, and he can’t be happier about it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The notes to explain potential issues here got really long, so if you're dying of curiosity of the data/research behind the chapter, please see the link: <a href="http://darktidings.atwebpages.com/Swim_Montserrat.html">Details for the Chapter</a>.  Some open ended issues (like the French cure and the missing US Navy) could appear in a future story if I make this a series.</p><p>The Sharlou is an actual charter sailing yacht.  Google it for some really pretty pictures. :)</p><p>Eventually, something will trigger the Virginia trip, but they'll get 2-3 chapters before heading north.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. It Would Be Safe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Beth and Shane settle into island life, which allows them to move forward with their relationship.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Montserrat is as gorgeous as every other Caribbean island Beth and Shane have visited, but none of the others will ever come close to the joyous beauty of also having other people around them.  She expected to be wary and introverted with so many strangers, but it’s hard when everyone she meets is so genuinely happy to see two more survivors come into the safe haven.  It makes her wonder if this is how the prison felt for folks like Bob or Michonne, who had been in the wilderness far too long.</p><p>Beth knows well before the two weeks up that Shane wants to stay.  The undercurrent of tense watchfulness that he’s borne since he found her in that veterinary clinic in Atlanta eases away with each day that he explores and gets to know their new community.  He settles in easily, sticking to island duties while they’re officially deciding, although she’s not surprised to overhear he’s being recruited for the scavenging crews.</p><p>The St. Maartener giving today’s recruiting speech flashes Beth an apologetic grin when she takes the seat at the outdoor patio table where Shane is already done with his meal.  “I am not trying to steal your man away from you,” Theo immediately soothes.  “To be honest, my crew would be happy to have you both.”</p><p>Theo is young enough he at least doesn’t make the assumption Beth and Shane are married, like many older folks on the island do.  Neither of them makes a correction when that happens.  She can’t speak for Shane’s motivation, but she figures a ring and a ceremony are pretty much just window dressing at this point, considering how she feels about him.  Instead, Shane turns her way.  “Everything good at the hospital?”</p><p>Nodding, Beth smiles brightly.  “I’ll be going back after supper.  Gillain hasn’t had her baby yet, but Dr. Rolle thinks it’ll be by nightfall.”</p><p>Being offered an apprenticeship of sorts at the hospital is one of the things that has Beth inspired to stay for certain.  She has a scattering of knowledge from helping her father at the prison, but it’s not enough.  While he had a lifetime of veterinary skills to transfer into human patients, she needs more details.  Becoming a doctor probably isn’t her endgame, but qualifying as a nurse seems eminently possible.</p><p>There’s a flicker of concern in Shane’s expression before he turns back to Theo.  “We’ll talk it over, but I think Beth’s pretty set on her medical training.”</p><p>Theo shrugs and gathers his empty plate as he stands.  “You know where to find me if you decide working off-island is good for either or both of you.”</p><p>Once the man wanders off to flirt with the lady working dish duty at the restaurant turned community cafe, Shane turns to her.  “I’m not sure I feel comfortable being away for possibly days at a time yet.  It’s not that I don’t think it’s safe, or you can’t kick ass perfectly well by yourself…”  He trails off, sighing.</p><p>“Do you know how weird it is to be half an island away from you?”  She thinks of how at the clinic today she kept wanting to turn and say something to him, only to remember he’s on a crew helping prepare fields for planting.  “I think it’ll be a while before we’re ready for putting spans of water between us, too.”</p><p>He looks so boyish in his relief that she isn’t taking offense that she leans in and kisses him, hands cupped against his face.  This late in the day, she can feel the texture of his stubble along her palms as she caresses his face.  Her food’s getting cold, though, so she reluctantly ends the kiss with a playful press of her lips to the bridge of his nose.</p><p>“I’m thinking maybe we should move off the Iris,” Shane suggests once she’s had time to eat a few bites.  “Not far, just Davy Hill, maybe, or Brades.  It’d be closer to the hospital for you and give the dogs a yard that’s officially theirs.”</p><p>Considering she’s been thinking about permanency here herself, it isn’t surprising that Shane’s on the same page.  Being too far from the Iris is almost as anxiety-inspiring as being away from Shane.  She suspects one or the other of them will be going down to check on their little home daily.  The harbor is nice, but it’s still not as protected from waves as some of the other places they’ve been.  The dogs are allowed free run of the island, but neither of them really like the pups ranging like that.</p><p>“I can check in with the council office and see what’s available,” she offers.  With the bicycle she already uses, there’s nowhere on the inhabited part of the island she can’t reach within an hour or so.  Learning to ride the mountain bike has been entertaining, and pedaling the hills is still stunning at times, but she’s in good shape and will only get better in time.</p><p>Shane agrees, relaxing beside her in a drowsy sort of quiet as Beth eats.  The dogs find them as she’s finishing, with Muffin and the puppies following Shane back toward the Iris.  Biscuit lingers, tail wagging happily when she tells him to follow her.  She thinks he misses being around her all day since some of her practice riding hasn’t been compatible with even a dog of his size and athleticism keeping up.</p><p>The baby doesn’t arrive by nightfall as predicted, but the healthy baby girl does make her appearance by nine.  Dr. Rolle allows Beth to catch the newborn, and it’s both the most wonderful experience she’s ever had and the absolute worst.  The physician gives her a ride back to the marina afterward, once the young mother is tucked up with a nurse to oversee any problems.</p><p>“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” Rolle comments, glancing over to Beth in the dark as he puts the dusty mid-nineties model Suzuki Samurai into gear.  Few people on the island are authorized to use the limited number of diesel engine all-wheel-drive vehicles, but all three physicians are among them.</p><p>“I miss my baby,” Beth confesses, surprising herself.  Although Judith is listed in her official file with the council as her adopted child, her little girl is not someone she’s discussed with anyone else on the island.  Grief overwhelms the sense of joy about Gillain’s new daughter, and Beth can’t stop the small sound of distress that escapes her even as she tries not to cry.</p><p>Rolle’s voice is kind and soothing when he replies.  “How long ago did you lose her?”</p><p>How long has it been?  Sometimes it seems like forever; sometimes it seems like she can still see that psychopathic bastard with Michonne’s blade at her father’s throat.</p><p>“Four months.”  </p><p>The trip isn’t long, especially in the SUV, so Dr. Rolle is pulling into a parking spot at the lot up above the marina as Beth replies.  She could make her escape with a quick goodnight and go curl up next to Shane’s solid warmth and cry to her heart’s content.  It wouldn’t be the first time, nor would it be the last.  But instead, she twists her fingers in the hem of her shorts and starts to talk.</p><p>“Her mother died when she was born, and somehow, she just ended up mine to care for.  We got separated when our community was attacked, and when Shane and I tracked down our people…”  Finding worse things in this world than what happened to her father makes Beth’s gut churn with remembrance, and she can’t get the word cannibal out.  “They were all dead.”</p><p>“I’m sorry.  I know it’s poor consolation, especially as much as I’ve said it in the past two years.”  Rolle sighs, fingers gripped on the steering wheel tight enough for his knuckles to go white, and Beth knows he probably lost someone close as well.  Everyone has these days.  “How old was she?”</p><p>“Seven months old.”  Never allowed to see her first birthday, which Beth realizes abruptly is less than a month away.  It sends a renewed surge of loss through her, along with a different urge.  She doesn’t voice it to Dr. Rolle, not yet, and reaches out to open the door.  “I need a few hours in the morning to find permanent quarters for us.”</p><p>The doctor accepts the change of subject and nods.  “That’s fine, and I’m glad to hear you’re deciding to stay.  We’ll have you qualified as a nurse in no time.”</p><p>Beth thanks him and goes around to lift her bike off the rack on the back of the SUV after letting Biscuit out of the back seat.  Waving as he drives off, she eyes her canine companion as they head down toward the docks and the Iris.  “I want a baby,” she tells the pit bull, who whines softly in response to her mournful tone.</p><p>She loves Shane, and there are probably a few chapters in her nursing psychology text that could be written over their relationship and her wish to have a child with the man who was the biological father of her adopted daughter, but she doesn’t care.  No child could ever replace Judith, but to have another baby to love?</p><p>There’s nothing she can imagine that would be better than that.</p><p>~*~*~*~</p><p>The little wooden cottage that Shane now calls home is bright and cheerful, which he suspects was why it attracted Beth.  It also lacks the formal architecture of some of the other places they browsed through from the list she was given, which is what appealed most to Shane.  After months in small living spaces like the boathouse near Atlanta, the skoolie bus, and then the catamaran, the simple place feels more like home than anything else would.</p><p>The kitchenette in the living area works nicely for them when they choose to eat at home instead of the community cafe, and lounging on the veranda among the banana trees with its ocean view allowing them to glimpse the island of Redonda in the distance is an enjoyable way to end their days.  It’s not the peaceful quiet of the Iris’s decks, but it’s not the busier hubbub of the apartment buildings elsewhere on the island, either.</p><p>“Are they really bringing back guano from Redonda?” Beth asks him as she passes him one of the glasses of chilled limeade she’s holding.  Rather than sit in the other lounger on the verandah, she takes a seat in front of him after he moves his feet to allow her to settle with her back to his chest.</p><p>“We got several loads hauled into the fields today, but they unloaded it all down where they’re building up the compost,” Shane tells her in amusement when he sees her nose wrinkle.  “Thought you were a farm girl.  Shouldn’t natural fertilizer be something you’re comfortable with?”</p><p>Beth giggles, turning just enough he can see her profile.  “You forget I used to be in charge of the chicken coop back home.  Bird shit stinks to high heaven.”</p><p>“I’m guessing you aren’t going to volunteer for garden duty anytime soon then?” he teases.  He doesn’t mind the heavy physical work he’s been doing, and it’ll feel even better come harvest time.  The climate here is prime for growing things, and there’s plenty to glean off other islands from crops gone wild, but food will always be a concern in their world.</p><p>“Not likely.  Between the hospital and the militia training, I’m gonna be busy forever, it seems like.”</p><p>That’s another advantage of the island.  Shane did his best to round out the haphazard survival and weapons training Beth had before he found her in Atlanta, and when she assessed in with the actual military folks who reviewed each person’s capability, she passed all the basic qualifications.  But the lost battle at the prison still echoes in her memories, so he wasn’t surprised one bit when she signed up for further training.  In the three weeks since they moved off the Iris and into the cottage, she’s alternated days between the hospital and the modified boot camp.</p><p>Shane suspects catching Beth off guard will be a hell of an accomplishment for anyone in the future.  He doesn’t comment on her drive to improve her skills, content that she makes her own decisions in that area.  Instead, he just dozes a little after setting his glass on the table next to his lounger, content to have her relaxed against him in the early March evening.</p><p>That gets interrupted by a feminine giggle.  “You should go to bed.”</p><p>“Mmm.  Probably.”  That means making her get up and then moving himself, and even though he was up before sunrise, he misses times like this with her.  Blinking in the fading sunlight, he laughs softly.  “Your birdies are visiting.”</p><p>Beth freezes, turning her head slowly to watch the hummingbirds that flit among the colorful flowers they have hung along the veranda.  A few battle over the feeders Beth has hung out, swooping gracefully through the air as the light catches on their colorful feathers.  </p><p>“There are so many of them here.  I used to watch them back home.  Mama kept feeders out in the winter for the ones that wintered in Georgia instead of further south.  I wonder if they were confused, once the feeders were gone.”  Her tone is wistful enough that Shane tightens an arm around her waist, pressing a kiss to her temple.</p><p>“I’m sure they figured it out.  Maybe went a bit further south than usual or something.”</p><p>It’s one of the many mysteries their new world poses, seeing how animals adapt to the lack of man.  Walkers still complicate things, especially up on the mainland or larger islands, but down here, where the weather encourages fast growth and the remaining people have removed walkers as predators?  He imagines many of the islands around them will reclaim their wild nature quickly.</p><p>“Gillain told me today that her people used to say that the spirits of people you love will live on in hummingbirds.  Her mother laughed a bit before she told me that they symbolize rebirth and spread new life in the world.”</p><p>Considering how much time Beth spends with the young woman and her baby, Shane isn’t surprised that she’s picking up on local cultural tales.  “They’re certainly vibrant enough for either legend.”</p><p>Beth’s fingers tighten in the fabric of his shirt unexpectedly.  “Tomorrow would have been Judith’s birthday.”</p><p>His breath catches at the abrupt admission.  It’s a date he should have known already, but the part of him that still rages with guilt and grief that he walked away from his daughter has always stopped him.  Most days it is just easier to recall that she was born as winter gave way to spring, but Beth doesn’t have the luxury of not knowing that specific date.</p><p>“Do you want to take the day off together?” he asks, voice husky with a turmoil of conflicting emotions.  The selfish part of him knows that hard work in the fields would keep his mind from festering with the knowledge, but he loves her too much to leave her to endure her own renewed loss alone.</p><p>“Yeah.”  It’s voiced so quietly that he barely hears her, and the feeling of dampness against his shirt isn’t surprising.  He pulls her as close as he can in his arms, rocking as she cries as hard as she did that terrible night after Terminus.</p><p>The fact that the breeze off the sea dries his own tears is something he just doesn’t worry about.</p><p>Beth falls asleep in his arms, but it doesn’t take much effort to lift her and carry her inside.  She’s put on muscle that she didn’t have before, but sometimes he thinks she’s still as light as one of her beloved hummingbirds.  Settling her in the bed, he starts to move away when she stirs, reaching up to grip his arm and pull him back.</p><p>“I know it won’t stop hurting,” she whispers.  “Judith, everyone, they’re never coming back.”</p><p>Unsure of what response she wants, he nods, kneeling next to the bed so that he’s on eye level with her.  The bedroom is too dim for him to make out the blue of her eyes, so they’re darker as her face twists with some sort of primal emotion.</p><p>“I want a baby,” she urges, a note of desperation in her voice he’s never heard before.</p><p>“Beth, I don’t know that it’s a decision you should be making right now.”  His voice is too firm in his panic as his mind maliciously reminds him of just why Beth raised Judith and not Lori.  He flinches when she frowns.</p><p>“I didn’t make it right now,” Beth tells him softly.  “I’ve been thinking about it for weeks.”</p><p>Since Gillain had her baby, Shane would just about bet for the timing.  He reaches out to brush the loose blonde hair back from Beth’s face.  “Why didn’t you mention it sooner?”</p><p>“I didn’t think you would agree, even though we have doctors here.  It would be safe.  As safe as it ever was anyway.”</p><p>Swallowing hard, he leans in and rests his forehead against hers, closing his eyes.  He knows she’s right, and normally, he’d argue that they’ve only moved from friends to lovers for less than three full months.  But old-world timing surely can’t compare when they spent four months alone with only each other to rely upon.  There’s a sense of hypocrisy in the back of his mind when he thinks of the world ending and what happened with Lori, but he pushes it away.  What he did then has no bearing on his life with Beth.</p><p>She lets him think, cupping one gentle hand against the nape of his neck, and that point of contact anchors him long enough to sort his thoughts.  Her hand falls away when he raises up to look at her again, but before he answers, he claims a kiss.  It’s slow and sweet, a physical expression of love neither of them has stated out loud yet.</p><p>“Marry me.”</p><p>Beth’s eyes widen at the words that slip out as soon as his lips leave hers.  He’s so close he can see her pupils dilate, the darkness overtaking the paler iris.</p><p>“Do you mean that?”</p><p>Although he hadn’t planned on those two words being what came out of his mouth, now that he’s said them, he knows it means it as intensely as he’s ever meant anything in his entire life.</p><p>“I do.  I love you, Beth.  I want everyone to know that.”  His smile isn’t the usual confident one when he tries to reassure her, but she smiles in response, and hers?  It’s fucking breathtaking, and he doesn’t need words or her kiss to know what her answer is.</p><p>Shane still isn’t sure about the idea of a pregnancy and the risk of losing Beth, or even worse, Beth losing another baby to shred her tender heart further.  But tying himself to her as permanently as life allows now?  That much he can promise her for now.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next chapter will still be on the island, but we'll finally see the a reason to send them north to Virginia.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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